Love is lookin' for you
by President Raggy
Summary: Faberry, later in life, at an unexpected crossroads. You KNOW they've always had a thing for each other! Now they're adults with stable careers. Nothin' too fancy, just character development and some lovey time. Puckleberry/Quick friendship and Brittana. Different names for the Berry dads because I didn't know!
1. Chapter 1

A/N

Hello, gentle readers. This is the first Faberry I started that actually felt right after a few chapters! Let me know what you think. I am an Ohio native, which works for the original setting of Glee and the setting I wanted to have. Here, we meet Rachel in the middle of a career path change, and Quinn very happy as a drama teacher. It's at my alma mater, no less, to help it feel familiar to me and to you!

Thanks. :)

Rachel watched as her daddy paced the waiting room of Lima Memorial, hands in his pockets, eyes to the floor.

"I really shouldn't have let him do all that cooking," he said. "I knew it would be too much for him."

"Daddy, _relax_." Rachel stood from the vinyl hospital couch and put a hand on her father's shoulder. He looked at her, worry creasing the lines around his deep brown eyes.

"Dad will be okay," she continued, and coaxed her frantic daddy onto the couch. "It was an accident. He's all right."

She tentatively rubbed his back as he put his head in his hands and groaned.

Michael Berry, drama queen.

No wonder Rachel was so high-strung sometimes.

It was Isaac she was worried about, though. Michael's frantic panicking was nothing compared to his husband's actual health problems. It had been six months since Isaac's heart attack, and they were taking no chances. So, when Isaac had cooked the entire Thanksgiving dinner, said he was dizzy when they sat down, and then slipped on some water and hit his head on the floor…well, Rachel decided they had better go to the hospital.

And there they were. Two hours after checking in, they were still waiting. Apparently a lot of people were sick or injured on Thanksgiving Day. To pass the time, Michael had already listed aloud all the problems that could have resulted from Isaac's head bump. Concussion. Stroke. Brain damage. Another heart attack. Amnesia. Memory loss.

Rachel had done her best to console him, but it was almost no good. So, she had been scouring the celebrity magazines (and found some unflattering pictures of herself) while playing Words With Friends against Puck. She was winning, of course.

It was strange to be back in Lima after being gone for so long. College in New York, then a couple years touring with the revival cast of _Les Miz_, thenand settling down to star as Velma in _Chicago_ – the role which landed her a nomination for a Tony for Best Actress in a Musical at the ripe age of 24. She didn't make that one, but she _did_ have a Grammy. The cast had recorded an album to celebrate the 25th anniversary of _Chicago_'s 1996 revival, winning them a Grammy – and, then, they retired the musical until a future generation wanted to pick it back up.

Now, at 28, she was taking some time off to rest her voice, and perhaps explore different options. Josh Radnor had turned fully to directing movies when _How I Met Your Mother_ wrapped – an Ohio native himself, he had approached Rachel to star in a new movie he was shooting around the Columbus area. She was interested, of course, but a life in Ohio after almost ten years in NYC seemed…well, boring.

Except for the hospital trips.

"Do you think he'll forget about us?" Michael Berry turned to his daughter, wide-eyed, and she sighed.

"I'm going to get us a pop or something, daddy. Try to relax. Okay?" He nodded and went back to staring down the hall.

Rachel got up and headed back to the receptionist's desk, her heels clacking loudly against the tile. There was a small vending area there, and she began digging through her purse for money as she stood in front of the Coke machine.

_A quarter…three pennies…a twenty…another twenty…shit_. She had to admit, it had been a while since Broadway Star Rachel Berry had needed small bills for _anything_, let alone a can of Sprite for her daddy.

She stepped aside as another woman came up to the machines, continuing to riffle through her purse for something smaller.

No luck.

She groaned. But her daddy needed something else to focus on or he would drive her crazy. And she was _definitely_ in need of a caffeine fix. So, tentatively, she reached out and tapped the other woman on the shoulder…

"Excuse me… ma'am?"

The woman, a blonde slightly taller than Rachel, turned to face her. And as much acting as she had done in the past decade, she couldn't hide the shock that played across her face.

"_Quinn?"_


	2. Chapter 2

Surprise had flitted across Quinn's face, as well, but the familiar hazel eyes were as cool and calculating as Rachel had ever seen them when her former classmate stuck out her hand.

"Wow. Hello, Rachel." Rachel shook her hand, feeling suddenly awkward. Quinn was dressed casually enough – in skinny jeans, boots, and a North Face, she looked like she was ready to sprawl out on a couch and do some reading for a graduate class. But her posture, the way she held herself…she was still very much the unreadable and icy young woman she had been in high school.

Rachel couldn't think of anything to say, so she just blurted, "Do you have change for a twenty?"

Quinn arched an eyebrow, but gave Rachel a half-smile. "Yeah. I should." She set down the Diet Coke she had just purchased, picking through a red and black wallet until she found some smaller bills.

"Thanks," Rachel said awkwardly, handing Quinn the twenty.

Quinn watched with the same half-smile as Rachel purchased a Diet Coke for herself and a Sprite for Michael…and then, as an afterthought, bought him some Starburst.

"Thank you," she said as her eyes met Quinn's again.

"No problem," Quinn said casually. Rachel continued to stand, gawking at her former classmate, until the blonde spoke again.

"Is there…something on my face?" Rachel started, nearly dropping her snacks.

"No, I'm…" she shook her head. "I'm sorry, this is just quite awkward. Here I am, we haven't seen each other since graduation in 2012, and I'm running into you in the Lima Memorial Hospital, of all places!"

"Well, you look good," Quinn said with another half-smile, and Rachel felt herself flush.

"Thank you… I… I'm here for my dad," she said. "He slipped in the kitchen and hit his head. I mean, he'll be okay," she said hurriedly as Quinn gasped. "My other father just thought it would be best to bring him in."

"That was smart of him," Quinn said.

"Yeah…he had a heart attack a few months ago, so you can never be too careful, right? He was cooking way too much – you know, the turkey and everything for him and for daddy, and the vegan things for me. It was just the three of us but it must have been a lot of stress, and he could have got a concussion or something!"

Quinn nodded, and Rachel flushed again because she realized how much she was rambling.

"…is everything all right your way?" she asked tentatively. Quinn nodded.

"One of my students was traveling along I-75 to go from his mom's in Dayton to his dad's in Toledo. He got in a wreck on the way and got hit pretty hard when his airbags deployed. He may have sprained a wrist, too, and they're not sure. He was close to Lima when it happened, and he knew I was here with my mom, so he called me up. He'll be all right."

"You teach now? I thought you were going to Yale for drama…"

"That was the plan, yes," Quinn said. "I'm teaching drama over near Columbus. College kids." Rachel nodded. "You've done well, right? Followed your dreams straight to Broadway."

"Yeah, I…" Rachel wasn't sure how impressed Quinn would be with a list of her accolades, so she kept it brief. "I've been in New York since graduation, but I think I'm going to take some time away from the big city and work on some smaller projects."

"You won a Grammy, right?"

"Well…yeah, the whole cast of _Chicago_ did earlier this year."

Quinn shook her head. "Broadway must have been a little too much for you, Berry. Ten years ago you would have been announcing that to the world!"

Rachel laughed, feeling self-conscious. "I suppose I would have. I don't know. I guess it's hard to think about winning a Grammy when you've got a parent getting his brain poked at."

They stayed quiet for a bit. Quinn took a sip of her Diet Coke.

"Well, I'd better go see what the x-rays found," she said. "Gus's dad will be here to get him soon, and I want to meet him."

"I should check on my daddy before he thinks I hurt myself too," Rachel said.

"…how long are you in town?" Quinn asked. The question was startling, unexpected. Rachel even dropped her Starburst. What was Quinn…

"Just a few more days, but I may be back for a movie."

Quinn arched an eyebrow, again. "To _see_ a movie with your dads, or…."

"Well, no. Like, to _be_ in a movie. Filming around here, I think. Josh Radnor's from Ohio – I don't know if you know him, but…"

"And I'm an _Ohio_ drama teacher," she said with a laugh. "We've crossed paths once or twice. I was at his Ohio premiere of _Liberal Arts_ when I was just starting at Yale, and he came to give us a workshop at OSU when I did my doctoral work there."

Rachel's eyes widened. "You have a _doctorate_?"

That half-smile again. "I wanted to do everything I could in college. And then I realized…well." She turned and threw a glance over her shoulder. "That may be a conversation for another day." She bent and picked up the dropped candy. "Give me a call."

"I don't – "

"Look in your hand." Rachel stared down at the pack of Starburst. Quinn had, somehow, folded a business card and slipped it into Rachel's hand.

Rachel stared at it a moment. When she looked up, Quinn had already disappeared down the hall. She put the business card in her pocket and headed back to sit with her daddy.

That was…_interesting_.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me so far! I hope you like what I've got. I usually write, like, news articles and columns. Stories are a little much for me because my attention span is pretty damn small…I'm trying. Thanks for reading.

Also. I didn't really know that Rachel's dads are officially named Hiram and Leroy. I hope Mike and Ike (wow, I just realized that) are all right and don't mess with any canon-loving readers.

Later that day, Rachel helped an aching Isaac Berry lay on the living room couch as Michael ran around getting every pillow he could find.

"Tell him to sit down, Rach," Isaac said. "He's going to end up being the hurt one in a second."

Rachel knelt and pressed an ice pack to her father's head. "I think he'll be okay, Dad. He's careful."

"Thanks for coming with us, sweetie." Isaac looked tired, and Rachel squeezed his hand.

"Of course, Dad. This is a time for family. I've got some time off now and it's important that I spend some of it with you two. Besides, what do you do without me?"

Isaac laughed. "I never work, that's for sure. I don't know what I'm going to tell the editors. 'Sorry, got a concussion at Thanksgiving and some of my articles may be a bit incoherent!'"

"Tell them exactly that, I suppose," Rachel said as her daddy returned with arms full of pillows.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he asked his husband.

Isaac smiled. "No, I'm fine. I just want to rest here for a bit before I tackle the stairs. This headache is killing me."

Michael sat gingerly on the side of the sofa. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Go take a breather, all right? I promise I'm fine."

As his tall, dark and handsome counterpart disappeared from the room, Isaac turned back to his daughter with a theatrical flair.

"I'm okay, daaahling. I'll probably fall asleep in front of a movie."

"Dad, isn't it bad to strain your eyes?"

"That's why I'm going to fall asleep in front of it, honey. I'll close my eyes to protect myself and then drift right off! Besides…the doctor said it was best not to let me sleep through the night, so you _know_ Michael is going to be waking me up every hour. I need all the beauty rest I can get." With that, his daughter kissed his forehead and headed back to her old room.

It looked just the same as it had in high school, elliptical machine and gold stars and purple lamp and all. It felt good to know her favorite place was waiting for her every time she came home. She sank back on her bed, shoes and coat still on, and pulled Quinn's business card out of her pocket.

_L. Quinn Fabray_, it read. _Columbus, OH theatre teacher and performer_. Her office number and email were not listed, but no cell. Rachel frowned and turned the card over. Maybe Quinn had written it on the back?

Nope.

_Well_. Surely she wasn't going to call Quinn in the middle of _work!_ How long did colleges take off for Thanksgiving, anyhow? She couldn't quite remember. The holidays were coming up, after all, so they would be on break again in a few weeks….

Monday. She would call Monday. It would give her time to…think. About…Quinn. And how she felt about going to lunch or something with the girl who bullied her in high school.

Was that really why she was afraid to try the number?

Or was there something else she didn't want to face?

Quinn was…as beautiful at 28 as she was at 18. The same elegant grace and cold strength shone through, and those hazel eyes still held some sort of captivating power. She was, in every sense, the girl that could make Rachel's ears sting with insults. Rachel had seen that. But she also saw a glimmer of the friendship they had shared senior year – though never _close_, Rachel had helped Quinn with her Yale application. Was it because she was afraid of being bullied again? Possibly. Was it to placate Quinn so she didn't get jealous of Rachel's relationship with Finn? Maybe at the time, but she was interested in more…enticing things now.

Or was it because she genuinely wanted to help Quinn? And possibly…wanted to be more than friends?

Since leaving the confines of Lima, Rachel had never dated another guy. Looking back, she had no idea what she saw in Finn. And she had no idea why she was jealous of Quinn for dating him…unless _Finn _wasn't the one she wanted.

She had thought about it, of course. About Quinn. How could she not? In high school, she tried to push her feelings back. But she thought about her in college…after a few drinks, usually, or when an old Glee song came on shuffle.

Rachel had _definitely_ been with women. In fact, she had only dated or slept with women since her sophomore year at NYADA, now that she thought about it. Her most serious relationship had been with Sarah, a woman who had a minor role in _Les Miz _ –pretty, blonde, and on her way out of the company. Her going-away party with the cast had been nothing compared to what Rachel had given her.

Still, that had only lasted four or five months, and Sarah had moved on to another show.

Thinking about that relationship with Sarah made another pretty blonde swim to the forefront of her mind.

Her and her fathers had more in common than she originally believed, she thought wryly as she undressed and slid on her pajamas.

But was Quinn just being friendly? Or… just fake friendly? Or was she trying to be sexy and mysterious?

It definitely felt sexy and mysterious, but Rachel had too much experience with Quinn the Deceiver to get her hopes up about Quinn the Flirtatious and Successful and Sexy and Mysterious.

She sighed.

Monday.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel woke early the next day, as she always had. She wandered downstairs and sat on the couch, which was now devoid of any handsome, concussed pale men or any equally handsome, frantic African-American men trying to make them feel better. She turned on the television and watched the news reporters discuss Black Friday shopping, how people were looking to get ahead – the usual stuff for the day after Thanksgiving.

It was almost six and there was no movement upstairs: Isaac was usually in the shower by now, and Michael would be banging on the door to get him to hurry up. For a man with so little hair, Isaac Berry took his sweet time cleaning up in the morning. Their routine hadn't changed in ten years.

They must have both called off work, which Rachel didn't mind in the least. She was in no mood to fight the crowds at the malls today. She felt – exhausted, actually. She would call her agent later, but for the moment she made coffee and sat contentedly with back issues of the _Lima News_, paging through the entertainment sections for her Isaac's articles and reviews.

Her dads joined her around nine. Neither seemed to have slept well, and Isaac was still dizzy and complaining of a headache. Rachel poured them all some cereal and coffee, and the little family sat wordlessly as the television continued to talk about _shopping_!

It took an hour before they were all fully awake, and before Isaac's ibuprofen kicked in. Michael went off to check his email, and Rachel followed suit after her concussed dad started paging through the _New York Times_ for inspiration.

It should have been a rest day, but a few hours of down time in the morning were all she could take. She called her agent, Jen, to talk. Apparently, someone had snapped a picture of Rachel going into Lima Memorial, looking a bit bloated from Thanksgiving dinner, and had captioned it _BERRY PREGNANCY SCANDAL GOES WILD IN LIMA_.

Jen assured her she was dealing with it, but would have appreciated a heads-up the next time her big star was going to the hospital.

Rachel countered by saying she wanted to stay in Ohio for the movie.

They hung up soon after that.

Jen, God love her, liked to keep Rachel under close surveillance. Kurt recommended her, saying she was "dependable, good with the media, and on top of things." Rachel didn't realize "on top of things" meant "all over her personal life."

Still, _someone_ had to tell her how to respond to awkward paparazzi encounters and bad interviews, as well as be able to manage Rachel's schedule and job offers.

Telling Jen that she wanted to do the movie was partially out of spite, but staying in Ohio to shoot a film didn't sound like such a bad idea. She wanted to be close to her dads, and maybe build h er career in a smaller city. She could always fly to see Santana and Brittany in Boston on the weekends, or catch a Broadway show starring Kurt or Blaine when she was back in NYC.

She had spent all her life trying to get out, but now she…well, she would kind of like to go for the movie.

Rachel debated calling Josh Radnor up, but figured she would try to catch him on the _actual_ weekend.

She perused her favorite Barbra Streisand and Broadway sites on Tumblr, then rejoined her fathers. They spent the day playing board games (Isaac's idea, though it didn't help his headache). When Scrabble turned into a yelling argument about the proper spelling of the word tchotchke, Rachel suggested a nap for Isaac and some tea for Michael, who was getting upset because his impaired husband had begun yelling in Yiddish.

It was good to be home.

Sunday, she decided to give Josh a call. She would only be in Ohio until Thursday, and she wanted to get a plan locked down before she flew home to New York.

"Hey, Berry!" Josh sounded happy to hear from her. "How's the Buckeye State?"

"Oh, it's every kind of weather, as usual," she said. "I'm used to New York now, so this is kind of uncomfortable."

Josh laughed. "I don't miss it either. Filming is going to be rough in the winter and spring. You know those seasons never act like they're supposed to!"

"About that. Josh, I really think I want to do that movie," Rachel said suddenly. She had even surprised herself. Josh was silent for a minute as she thought of how best to put it. "I know I'm a long shot because I have never done this. I mean, I know you've never worked with me and I'm admittedly a struggle to work with sometimes, and it would be my first movie, but I really want to branch out. Like Barbra."

"Hey, everyone starts somewhere. You just…started on stage, and won a Grammy and all that. Yeah, you're _totally_ a long shot. Come on." His tone was teasing. "I offered, remember?"

"I know. It's just… I'm still not sure. I know I could do a lot more in New York, but it's busy and crowded and I'm always getting my picture taken in unflattering poses by paparazzi. And I don't want to move, but at the same time something smaller would be nice. I don't know…maybe I need a change."

"Maybe you do. Look, I don't need an answer right away, and I'm very glad you are interested. Take your time. We'd be glad to have you with us in Columbus if you want to stay. You fly back to the Big Apple when?"

"Thursday. And I really have no plans on my return except for a photo shoot for Maybelline…"

"So _boring_. Well, let me know sometime in December. Before the holidays, yeah?"

"All right. Take it easy, Berry."

"Thank you, Josh."

They hung up.

All right, so she still had time to think. Find a new project in NYC, or find a nice apartment in Columbus and start moving her life back to Ohio.

Her dads would definitely be glad to have her close. She would be by the airport, to fly around and see all her old friends. Sam and Mercedes might call her to babysit in Lima, too. And maybe she'd even spend time with Quinn?

Maybe.

Tomorrow, she'd start with a phone call, and then see how that went.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I love getting emails about story subscribers and especially reviews. Let me know how y'all like it! I'm really enjoying writing this, so thank you for reading.

- Raggy

Nine in the morning is a good time to call a college professor, right?

With an extensive amount of coffee in her system, Rachel felt prepared. Quinn had _wanted_ her to call. She would just…see when they could meet. As old friends. …classmates, really.

Right?

She had rehearsed what she would say. Like a play, only her lines weren't quite scripted. It all depended on what Quinn would have to say.

Heart pounding (though she didn't _quite_ admit to herself why), she picked up her BlackBerry and dialed the number.

But she hadn't quite prepared for it going to voicemail.

"Hi, this is Quinn Fabray, professor of theatre and dance at Ohio Wesleyan University. I'm away from my desk right now but please leave your name and number. And don't forget to pre-order tickets for "Once Upon a Mattress," beginning this March!"

_Beep_.

"Uh…hi. Quinn? This is Rachel. Rachel Berry, from McKinley." She cringed. _Really_? "Just wanted to say hi and give you a call. Um, I'm leaving Thursday for New York but maybe we can do coffee or something. Give me a call or text me? My number is…um…" she forgot it momentarily but then remembered those ten digits, and recited them before hanging up.

An hour or so later, her phone buzzed.

_-Sorry I missed your phone call. Are you free at all today_?

The number was unfamiliar, so she assumed it was Quinn. She hesitated before typing a response. Was she ready to have ten years' worth of catching up with Quinn _today_?

_-I don't really have anything going on yet, to be _honest, she wrote. _My schedule is flexible, and I have a car so can meet wherever._

- _Good,_ came the reply. –_Can you meet me around Columbus tonight? Some theatre things after classes but I am free around seven._

_- Let me know where,_ Rachel replied, her heart beating a little quickly. Sure, the drive from Lima to Columbus was long. But Kurt and Blaine did it all the time. Besides, what _else_ was there to do?

Quinn had texted an address for some café or something - -_it's vegan-friendly, so you will be okay_ – and Rachel headed downstairs with some trepidation. Well. She was meeting Quinn Fabray for…dinner and drinks, or something like that? If she arrived in Columbus at seven, it wouldn't give them much time to talk before Rachel had to rush back to Lima… but perhaps she could stay the night in a Columbus hotel and then explore the city on Tuesday. After all, she may be shooting a movie there and it was time to explore Ohio's biggest city. That was a good plan. Besides, Quinn would have school the next day, so it's not like they were going to be out too late. Just a few hours at most, talking…and then she could go to the hotel and let her brain process whatever strange feelings were bound to creep up when she saw Quinn again.

Quinn had seemed different. Rachel was definitely different. She had tasted fame and enjoyed it, but she definitely was being challenged on Broadway. So many competitors, so many rehearsals. Paparazzi, time away from her dads, interviews and endorsements and… Well, hell. It may be worth it for her mild anxiety disorder if she settled in Ohio for a bit and made a nice, calm, wholesome movie. Quinn could tell her about Columbus. It would be nice to have a connection so close to the set.

Now to let her dads know. It was – strange, thinking she had to tell her parents where she was going. But at the same time, they were being hospitable and letting her stay and eat their food and risk them being a paparazzi target. The least she could do is let them know when she was driving two hours to eat with a girl who used to torment her, right?

Michael may have some reservations about that plan, so she decided to call Isaac. Besides, she never knew when her daddy was busy at work. He did something with computers…Rachel wasn't quite sure, after all these years, what a "systems analyst" did. But 10:30 a.m. at the _Lima News_ wasn't going to be too terribly exciting, so her dad was the best bet.

"Lima entertainment section, this is Ike Berry."

"Hi dad. How's your head?"

"Heeeyyy baby girl! I'm okay, thank you. My eyes are still a little sensitive to the light, so they have me sketching out page designs instead of staring at my computer." He sounded cheerful.

"So I'm thinking of driving to Columbus to look at the city," she said. Might as well get it over with. "Just in case I decide to do that movie with Josh Radnor."

"Yeah, well as much as you love your old men, I know you're probably itching to get working again. You want to go down today? It's after ten already."

He wasn't wrong about wanting to get back to her work, so she didn't deny it. "Well… I made plans with someone tonight near downtown, and I figured I could stay in a hotel and explore the city early tomorrow morning. I'll be back tomorrow night."

"That sounds very good, honey. We'll try to manage without you. But who the hell stayed in Columbus? I thought I knew where all of those Glee ruffians ended up. Maybe it's just the concussion. Sam and Mercedes are in Cincinnati, and Finn and his little family are here. Brittany and Santana are in Boston… Artie is in Los Angeles… Kurt and Blaine are on Broadway, Tina and Mike are in New York too, and Puck ended up there as well. Who the hell am I forgetting? Damn concussion."

"No, dad, that's quite a good memory. It's, uh…it's Quinn Fabray, dad. She's teaching at Ohio Wesleyan and I ran into her the other day at the hospital. We're going to have dinner and catch up."

There was a long pause.

"Are you still there, Dad?"

"Yeah." Isaac's tone had shifted. "Quinn Fabray, Rachel? The one who had the baby and kind of tortured you at McKinley? That girl?"

"Yes, that was her back in high school, but she seems to have changed, Dad."

"Well, I sure as hell hope she has. I've got to say, she doesn't sound like ideal dinner company."

"I know…"

"Rachel, you are 28 years old and wildly successful. I know I can't tell you what to do. But you called me up to talk about this, clearly, because part of you knows this is a terrible idea. This girl made your life _hell_ and Glee club may have healed some of those wounds, but people who mess with other people like Fabray messed with you…they don't change, Rachel. She is still that dark, dangerous and tortured soul she was ten years ago, somewhere behind that fake smile. So you be careful. Because if she's fucking with you, I _swear_ to God…"

"Dad, _stop._ It's going to be okay. Seriously. We just ran in to each other, and figured while I was in town…" Isaac never said "fucking" unless he was upset or losing in Scrabble, so she knew he was on edge.

"I think she's bad news, and Michael would agree with me. Did you talk to him?"

"No, Dad, I thought he may be upset."

"Well, what does that tell you if you thought _I _was the calm one and I'm reacting like I am? Mike isn't going to be too thrilled." A voice floated in through the background. Isaac covered the phone for a minute.

"I've got to go. I'll call your daddy at my lunch break and let you know what he says. He'll want to know about it. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, thank you…" Rachel began, but Isaac had already hung up.

Rachel felt tears spring to her eyes at her father's reaction. They didn't understand. It was dinner with an old classmate, not…a date or a sudden announcement of deep friendship! Just dinner…

Her daddy texted her just after noon. –_ Tlked to ur Dad. Not the best Idea but we trust ur judgment. Be careful driving and dont forget 2 giv us heads Up. Lv u. _

…That was it? A text from her daddy, one of the worst texters on the planet?

Maybe Michael Berry, Drama Queen was being the sensible one this time around.

-_I love you daddy, thank you. I'll be back tomorrow okay? Don't worry_.

So with that out of the way, Rachel now faced a bigger challenge.

Only four hours until she needed to leave, and she had _no idea_ what to wear.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thiiiis is the niiight, it's a beeeeauuutiful niiight…and they caaaalll it BEEEELLLA NOOOTEEE

"Lady and the Tramp" is certainly not the theme for this dinner date, but I thought it would be funny to sing it to you. Get ready for a bit of tension and to see what happens when Rachel's anxiety medicine clashes with alcohol…

- Raggy

Rachel had allotted herself time for traffic, plus a little extra in case she needed to stop and pee. So, naturally, she arrived at the restaurant 45 minutes early.

So, she drove her rental car to the hotel and checked in. But by the time all her things were inside, she still had half an hour until she was to meet Quinn. She was used to busy hotels with her entourage about her, and was surprised how quick the employees at the Hilton got her up to her room.

The restaurant was just half a block from her hotel, so she decided to walk over and get some fresh air. She could just bide some time and surf the Internet or something.

She wasn't going to text Quinn, though, because that would make it sound like she was desperate to see her. She wasn't so excited that she would show up early…but she definitely didn't want to show up late.

Rachel was shivering slightly as she stepped in to the restaurant. To warm up (and calm her nerves), she sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of white Zinfandel.

As she finished the glass in two gulps, she admitted it to herself. Rachel Berry was pretty nervous. And she wasn't one to drown her anxieties in alcohol, but she'd be damned if it didn't help sometimes. It was funny that the anxiety medicine she was on made her more sensitive to alcohol…as if she needed another thing to worry about!

She was done with a second glass by the time Quinn texted her at 6:55.

-_Almost there_.

Rachel pulled out her pocket mirror and checked her makeup again. She had opted for the skirt-and-blouse route, and chosen a high-waisted skirt, and heels that accentuated her legs and (admittedly nice) rear end. Makeup was minimal. There wasn't much chance of paparazzi here on Polaris Parkway, just north of Columbus, so she kept her hair down.

Quinn tapped her on the shoulder about five minutes later. She was wearing black dress pants and a cardigan, and was smiling genuinely. Her cheeks were red from the cold Ohio wind. Rachel stood, awkwardly, almost dropping her wine glass.

"Hey," she said, jutting out her hand.

Quinn took it with a bemused smile. "Shall we? I see you've started without me."

"Well, I have to know the best places for drinks if I may be here for a movie," Rachel said as they approached the host.

"Hi," Quinn said to the man. "Fabray, party of two?"

The man smiled. "Follow me." He led them to their seats. The restaurant was pretty big, but the soft lighting and candles at every table made it feel smaller, more intimate. It seemed to Rachel like it was mostly a crowd of couples or people doing some kind of business. They sat at a corner booth, away from most other people.

A young woman named Maggie arrived to take their orders – more wine for Rachel, and a dry martini for Quinn.

"Will this be together or separate?" Maggie asked.

"Together." Quinn had said it before Rachel could even think.

"Then I'm getting these two drinks," she said obstinately. Quinn shrugged, and the waitress disappeared.

"So," Quinn said as they opened their menus. "How was the drive?"

"Okay," said Rachel. "No traffic, really." She scanned the menu appreciatively. There were quite a few vegan options, and diverse ones at that. There was an awkward pause as they began to look, so she decided to crack a joke. "Appropriate restaurant pick, Quinn. It's both theatrical and delicious. I see there are quite a few options for me, and for such…eaters of dead things, as yourself."

Quinn rolled her eyes as Maggie returned with their drinks. They perused the menus for a few minutes, and Rachel decided on a falafel pita for herself. Quinn went for a grilled chicken sandwich.

"And can we split the hummus tray?" the blonde asked the waitress. Maggie nodded, took the menus away, and left Quinn to focus her attention on Rachel.

"So," she said with a small smile, beginning to sip her martini. "How is your dad?"

"He's okay," Rachel replied. "Thank you for asking."

"Is he…what's the diagnosis?"

Rachel winced. "Stage 3 concussion, only because he's had them before. Once you hurt your brain, it never fully heals and it becomes easier to injure it again. But he's back at work today. He's a writer."

She wanted to ask about Quinn's family, and why she was in Lima for Thanksgiving, but she held her tongue. She wasn't sure how everything with Judy had ended up, though she was quite positive Russell wasn't in the picture.

"…and your other dad? Daddy, I guess?" Quinn prompted, and Rachel nodded. "What does he do?"

"He's a systems analyst? I think it means he writes business programs on the computer. He doesn't usually say much about work. I don't think Dad and I would get it."

They chatted idly about Rachel's fathers until someone brought their appetizer out: pita chips, crackers, and about five flavors of hummus.

They began munching. _Not bad so far_, Rachel thought. _But I want to seem like I've grown up since high school, and I know I have…I need to talk about more than myself!_

"How long have you been teaching?" She noticed, as she lifted some spicy hummus to her lips, that her head was feeling a little fuzzy. An alcohol buzz already? _Damn_, she thought.

"Oh, about two years now," Quinn replied. "I really like the students. They work hard and they love what they do. Gives me a reason to go teach every day." She shifted in her chair, and her foot brushed Rachel's leg for a second. Quinn's touch made Rachel's leg tingle, and she felt her stomach turn.

Rachel tried to focus as she met those hazel eyes. "So, what do they _call_ you?" She groaned at the lame joke forming in her brain but the wine forced it out. "'Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?'"

Quinn laughed and took a sip of her martini, eyeing Rachel over the glass. Rachel tried hard to focus on the answer to the question, because Quinn looked unbelievably sexy when she laughed and it was kind of distracting.

"No, nothing like Dr. Quinn or Dr. Fabray. I'm young enough to be their sister! They call me Quinn. Actually, some of them just call me Q. Brittany and Santana would be happy to know their nickname stuck." She smiled, a genuine grin that lit up her hazel eyes. "Sometimes when I get bitchy, they call me the Lion Quinn."

"I can't imagine you being a bitch." The sarcasm slipped out before she could stop it, but Quinn just brushed it off as she crunched on a cracker.

"I know, right? Well, I'm a faculty adviser for one of the student groups, too. It's just weird being called "Doctor" anything when I'm painting sets or laying around on a dorm floor during a group meeting."

"What student group?" Rachel was interested – partially because she wanted the conversation to continue flowing, but also because she had never seen Quinn like this before. She seemed so happy.

"The LGBT group on campus," she said nonchalantly. "You'd be surprised what a diverse bunch of students are in it!"

Rachel took a big gulp of wine to mask the shock that had probably just spewed itself all over her face.

She wasn't interested in the diverse group of students. She was now focused on the fact that Quinn, miss Celibacy Club and ultra-conservative background, was faculty adviser for the gay community.

She decided to play it casual.

"We had one of those at NYADA. I mean, obviously." She waved a hand for casual effect as she scooped up more hummus. "Fine arts kids, right? But I think we just ran it ourselves. It was a good group of students; I enjoyed being in the group."

Was that surprise or excitement on Quinn's face?

Whatever it was, it disappeared behind her martini glass. "Really?" Quinn asked. "You were in an LGBT group in college?"

"Oh of course, when I found the time. My dads were very proud."

Rachel wasn't sure if Quinn only thought she was in to LGBT rights because of Michael and Isaac, but she wanted to keep the blonde woman interested. She decided to push a little further.

"I didn't know you were into LGBT rights, as well. Are the students happy to be in Ohio now that gay marriage is legalized?"

"Well of course," Quinn said. "Your dads are officially married now, right?"

"Yes, it was one of the greatest days of my life," Rachel responded. "They always say how lucky they are to have supportive family and allies. I'm sure the students feel the same way about you." She was baiting Quinn, now, challenging her to admit if she was _only_ an ally to the cause or was something more…

"Sometimes I think being an ally is harder than being gay," Quinn said. "You get criticized by homophobes for supporting the "gay agenda" but you also are kind of forgotten by the gay community. I've seen it happen a lot, actually."

"But never experienced it? That's good," Rachel countered.

Quinn was eyeing her now with something more than conversational interest. She flagged Maggie the waitress down.

"Another wine, Rachel? I'll take another martini. This is back on my tab."

Maggie disappeared and Quinn turned her attention back to Rachel, hazel eyes boring into brown. She had successfully diffused the conversation.

Damn.

"If you're ever free on a Thursday night, stop by campus," Quinn said. "We have our meetings every week. We do other things, as well – network with other university groups, go to rallies, bring in speakers… the kids go to the gay clubs sometimes. I usually sneak in behind them and make sure no one is drinking underage."

She leaned back casually and stretched.

"But the clubs I usually go to don't let any people under 21 in, so there's no chance of my underagers sneaking in to spy on _me_ instead," she continued. Rachel couldn't help raising her eyebrows.

"Are you worth spying on, Dr. Fabray?"

Quinn smiled slowly and raised her own eyebrows right back. She licked some hummus off her fingers before she replied.

"Oh, not really. I just hang with my friends at the club, mostly. Never any drunken bumping or grinding with a stranger like the college crowd would _love_ to catch a professor doing."

"I suppose that's good," Rachel said carefully. "You never know, a guy you dance with could end up being Ohio State's starting quarterback or something. You'd be all over the newspapers, and that's not fun."

Quinn arched an eyebrow and gave Rachel the classic head cheerleader stare…but today it was slightly mischievous, not an indication that Rachel was about to get a Slushie facial.

"No, I don't dance with the football players anymore. I lean more toward the softball team, if you catch my drift."

"I think I do." Rachel's palms felt a little sweaty. "I'm not after any football boys myself."

"I know; I haven't seen you in the tabloids with any. Are you just waiting for the strong and silent artist type to sweep you off your feet, or…"

"More like the cheerleader type these days." She couldn't stop it, the words had just spilled right out, and Quinn didn't miss a beat. She leaned forward and took another piece of bread, brushing Rachel's hand slightly.

"Well, they're strong, but not always silent." The innuendo hung in the air, heavy, until Quinn amended it. "You know, all the cheering."

"Yeah." Rachel's throat felt a bit dry. Quinn's face wasn't crystal clear any more, the edges swam a bit, and as Maggie the waitress handed out their new drinks with their dinners, Rachel's hands felt heavy.

"Inhibitions" was not the word of the day today.


	7. Chapter 7

Dinner progressed quite casually from there. Quinn told Rachel about good places to eat and drink in Columbus, and neat places to walk outside, and what to do on a rainy day. Rachel was getting excited to see the city, and almost debated texting Josh to tease him about how long she was going to take to make up her mind.

And there was the sensation below her stomach that kept reminding her she didn't just _want_ a friendship right at this moment. Seeing Quinn after ten years, how happy and how unbelievably gorgeous she was, it made all her repressed feelings fly right out the window.

It could also have been the wine.

The check came, and each paid their respective part.

Rachel tried to protest again, but Quinn shook her off.

"Rachel. You came all the way down here to have dinner with me. It's a lot of gas. They pay me well enough…I got it."

"Thank you. Really."

Quinn smiled. "It's not really too often that I see anyone from McKinley. Everyone has their own lives. I guess I'm still a gossipy teenager at heart…I like knowing what everyone is up to."

"Well, if I am around Columbus for a while," Rachel began tentatively. "Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"I'd like that." The statement was genuine. They put on their coats and headed for the door. Rachel was weaving a little.

"These heels were a bad idea," she complained as she nearly tripped over her own feet. Quinn put an arm around her waist to steady her, which sent Rachel's head reeling even more.

"Or maybe it was all that Zinfandel," Quinn said wryly as she steadied her old classmate and opened the door for her. "You're not driving anywhere, are you?"

"No… I walked over from my hotel. It's the Hilton over there. I'm okay, Quinn." She was a little embarrassed that she was this tipsy. Quinn was looking at her with…either amusement or pity. She couldn't tell.

"It's half a block. Let me walk you over, okay?"

"Quinn, I'm—"

"I need some fresh air or something before I drive home, anyhow. I forgot how strong they make the drinks here." With that, she steered Rachel out the door and towards the hotel. She let go of Rachel and pulled a black carton out of her purse. "You don't smoke at all, do you?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

"Me either." Quinn deftly pulled a little black cigarette out of the carton and produced a lighter from her pocket. "I mean…" She lit it quickly, and Rachel caught a whiff of something sweet. "Not usually. But if I've been drinking, or I'm under stress, I'll cave in. Everyone's got vices, I suppose. And these aren't _that_ bad for me…unless you count that they're illegal." She winked conspiratorially.

"Why?"

"Oh, back when Obama was president they signed a law that cigarettes can't have flavors anymore. Just the thicker ones, the cigarillos, can. Something about it contributing to teen smoking. So I get these clove cigarettes imported from Europe." She rolled her eyes, taking a drag of the cigarette. "I know, I sound _so_ cool right now. Totally hipster"

Rachel thought she looked cool, almost like a movie villain about to espouse some diabolical plan. But she kept it to herself and just smiled. She was still getting used to this Quinn: happy, laid-back, college professor Quinn was much better company than angry, manipulative, head cheerleader Quinn. The smoking reminded her of Punk Quinn's minor appearance their senior year. She almost shivered. Quinn with pink hair and a nose ring had been…well, kind of hot. But the fact that the girls she was hanging out with called themselves "The Skanks" still made her uncomfortable.

They reached the hotel without incident, and took the elevator to Rachel's fourth-floor room.

"Thanks again…" She felt slightly awkward, fumbling with the key card to her hotel as Quinn Fabray stood behind her. Rachel pushed open the door and turned on the light, throwing her coat and handbag onto the table by the TV.

She turned. Quinn was leaning in the doorway, watching her with a half-smile.

"Are you going to invite me in, or are you going to keep a lady waiting?" The tone of her voice had changed. It was huskier, softer.

Rachel shivered, beside herself, and wordlessly walked to the door. Her heart was pounding as she grasped Quinn by her jacket collar and pulled her in. Shutting the door behind them, she pushed the blonde woman against the wall and kissed her fiercely.

Quinn pulled back for a split second, but returned the kiss, parting her lips and winding her hands into Rachel's dark hair as Rachel fumbled to unbutton her coat.

As Quinn's coat slid to the floor, Rachel put her hands on the other woman's hips and pushed backward, until the bed met the back of Quinn's knees and they both fell onto the comforter.

Rachel's mind was consumed with nothing more than thoughts of Quinn. God, she wanted Quinn so bad. Quinn and how beautiful she looked, hair spread all over the bed. Quinn and her soft hands, now pulling Rachel's short off and tossing it on the floor. Quinn kissing her neck, caressing her breasts. Quinn, now pulling of her pants and sliding her fingers down…

_Oh_.

There really wasn't much for Rachel Berry to actually _think_ about after that.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: How cliché is drunken sex? SO cliché, I know, but it happens to the best of us. Maybe you were expecting some awkward feelings afterwards, but it looks like there weren't any. _That_ may be the part that isn't cliché! Thanks for sticking with me.

I'll be at my parents' for New Year's and their Internet isn't so great. So, enjoy these next few chapters for the weekend. More later. Have a good New Year! Be safe.

- Raggy

It was just past 6 a.m. when Rachel woke the next morning. Quinn was sprawled out on her stomach, still naked, with her tousled blonde hair spread all over the pillow. Rachel smiled, and debated stroking her forehead for a second. But then again, she wasn't sure how much of the night before had been true mutual attraction, and how much had just been wine or martini.

She knew what it had been on her own part, anyway.

Rachel slipped out of bed and dug through her bag for a fresh change of clothes. She grabbed her key card and headed silently out the door.

She wasn't leaving, of course. She would never even do that to her one-night stands in college or on Broadway. It was rude and practically howled "I'm loose and a bitch."

Besides, it was _Quinn_. And no matter how awkward their pasts were together, ten years had made a huge difference in both of their lives. She could just tell.

And the mutual attraction had been practically palpable over dinner.

She knew the continental breakfast began at six, so she took the elevator to the lobby. No one was there but some of the employees and several businessmen reading their newspapers. Rachel put two bagels on a plate, and grabbed some jelly for herself and cream cheese for the sleeping professor upstairs (though she wasn't sure what Quinn would actually want). Two apples went onto the plate as well, and she poured two cups of coffee. After a moment's hesitation, she took cream and sugar with her in case Quinn wasn't as hard as a coffee drinker as she was.

Balancing the plate on the two cups, Rachel stepped back into the elevator. It was a bit of a struggle getting her room door open, but she managed. Quinn was still fast asleep. Rachel gently set their breakfast on the bedside table and pushed back the mess of blonde hair.

"Is there anyone alive under there?" One hazel eye opened and glared.

"NO." Quinn rolled over and kicked her feet.

It was so funny, so normal and not awkward, that Rachel burst out laughing. She was relieved that Quinn wasn't being shy or had magically closed up and become her old high school self again.

"Quinn. Quinn." Rachel leaned over and poked her in the back. At this, Rachel found herself being pulled back into bed and kissed passionately. Quinn ran her hands over and over her face, down her chest, into her hair.

When they broke apart, Quinn was smiling.

"Hi, Rachel."

"…hi, Quinn."

"Some way to rekindle an old friendship, right?"

"I thought coffee may help, but you have too much energy already."

"That's a lie." Quinn rolled, right over Rachel, and took a cup of the coffee.

"I brought cream and –" but Quinn had already taken a huge sip and smiled.

"You know how to treat a lady, huh? Get her tipsy, make her come, and wake her up with coffee and a bagel. Do I still have to go to work?"

"No," Rachel said, suddenly giddy. "You can just squire me about town…"

Quinn dunked her bagel into the coffee with a frown. "I would, Rach, but I have class."

"Until when?" Rachel smeared some jelly on her bagel and did her best pouty teenager face.

Quinn smiled. "I'm usually out of the office by four or five."

"I'll need saving from the big bad city by then. Can I buy you dinner before I head home? Wherever you want."

Quinn sighed. "Rachel. Last night was…amazing, but I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"We'd have dinner tonight again and then…what? You would fly home to New York and I would go back to my apartment and I don't know when I'd see you again."

"Airplanes take people places, you know."

"Well, yeah, but I don't want to be on a plane every other weekend."

"Quinn, I can fly. I have time off now. And it's almost the holidays, you'll have time off and then I could potentially be in Columbus for a while!"

"I don't have –"

"I've been on Broadway for a few years." Rachel cut her off. "I have enough money to fly you wherever."

Quinn stammered, then massaged her forehead, as she could find nothing else to say.

"Quinn," Rachel began tentatively, "We were both tipsy last night. There is obviously an attraction between us that has been simmering for some time. We let it out and now it's all in the open. But we're two adults with two separate lives. I'm not expecting you to drop everything and be my girlfriend or something. But I really enjoyed the time I spent with you yesterday and I would like to catch up more. I promise. Let's just…be friends for now, okay?"

"I know you enjoyed last night," Quinn said with a slightly evil wink.

"I'm _serious_."

"Come on, you know I'm kidding."

Rachel sighed. "I'm just saying…I think _maybe_ something could progress beyond us being friends…but for now can we be friends? I don't really have too many. Besides my dads. And Puck. And sometimes my agent. And, of course, Brittany and Santana!"

"Tell them hey for me," Quinn said as she climbed out of bed, still nude, and pulled her clothes on. "I'm going home to get changed before class…I'll never hear the end of it if I show up with messy hair and the same clothes I had on yesterday."

"I want to come watch," Rachel said innocently.

Rachel caught a flash of something on Quinn's arm as the blonde pulled her undershirt on.  
>"Is that a tattoo?"<br>Quinn nodded, and rolled up her shirt sleeve to expose a black and white drawing of an ace of hearts playing card on the inside of her bicep. The ace was filled in, which Rachel assumed must have been a time-consuming and painful process.  
>"What's it mean?" she asked.<br>"It comes from a song," Quinn said, tracing the card's outline with her fingertip. "It's called 'Easy from Now On.' Emmylou Harris sang it originally, but I got introduced to it because it was on Miranda Lambert's sophomore album."  
>"Oh?" Rachel raised her eyebrows. "I didn't really have you pegged as a country fan."<br>"I was a casual fan through high school, but I really started listening in college," Quinn replied. "I like country. It has the capability to reach people at any emotional level. Most of the songs tell a story, and they've got a lot of feeling behind them."  
>"What's the ace represent? Cheating at cards in your local honky-tonk?"<br>The blonde rolled her eyes. "No, you ass. The actual line is, 'when the morning comes and it's time for me to leave; don't worry 'bout me, I've got a wild card up my sleeve." She shrugged. "It's not about one-night stands to me. It's a reminder that only I know what I am truly capable of and what my intentions are. I chose my own destiny, kind of. No matter what the situation, I'm in control of my own actions."  
>"I like that. Really," Rachel said, because Quinn was looking at her skeptically. "It's got meaning behind it, and I appreciate that.<br>"Well, I got her logo first, when I was in college." Quinn turned, pulled her shirt up, and displayed her other tattoo: a pair of pistols, crossed, with wings extending from the backs.  
>"That's kind of hot."<br>"Ha. If you say so..." Quinn dropped her shirt and turned back to face Rachel. "I guess I'm just another fangirl."  
>Rachel filed this information away for later use. "Have you ever met Miranda Lambert?"<br>Quinn shook her head. "God, no. I've been to so many shows but I've never met her. I think I would die." Her mouth dropped open, as if she realized exactly who she was talking to. "Oh my GOD. You know her, don't you?"  
>Rachel had met Miranda and her husband, fellow singer Blake Shelton, at the Grammys several times. They weren't extremely close, but they had spoken occasionally.<p>

"Yes," she said with a smile. "I do know her."

Quinn sat back down, mouth agape, looking much like a teenager at a sleepover who had just been handed a juicy bit of gossip.

"Is she awesome?"

Rachel nodded. "She's a very sweet woman. I…was expecting something else, given all her violent breakup songs. And despite her guns and her love for shooting deer, we have quite a lot in common. I think I've always seen country singers as kind of conservative and closed-minded, but I know one of her best friends is a lesbian. She seems like a relatively open person."

"Wow." Quinn took a sip of her coffee, staring at Rachel almost reverently. "I guess it never occurred to me how many of our favorite singers, and people we covered in Glee club, that you probably _know_."

"They're just normal people to me, I guess. We all spend our days in the limelight, doing basically the same thing – entertaining people, sometimes being icons. When we get together, we just like sharing our experiences. It's refreshing to me that there are other people who have experienced the perils and the pleasures of being famous."

"Never thought of it that way."

Rachel furrowed her brow. "Don't get me wrong, Quinn. I love my job. But being scrutinized so heavily, all the time? And for me and other actors, to work our asses off to get to the top? Some never make it. But _damn_, we work hard. I get tired sometimes. Your students are going to learn that."

"I took the easy way out, I guess." Quinn looked a little sad.

"No, of course you didn't. To take those young careers in your hands, to shape all those drama kids for a tough future? It's a huge responsibility. I think they are lucky. It really seems like you love them."

"Oh, we get along well enough." But Rachel knew she was joking. "Hey, we can talk more later? I should go." Quinn pulled her cardigan on, then stood and picked her coat off up the floor. "Thanks for breakfast and for coming to see me."

"Thanks for _wanting_ to see me." She meant it. Quinn pulled Rachel into a hug and ruffled her hair.

"Text me if you're hungry later, okay? There's a good pizza place in town. I think they have vegan stuff or something." They broke apart, and Quinn touched her hand to her forehead in a salute. "Until then, _capitan._"

Rachel watched her go, still surprised at how quickly this had progressed. _I saw Quinn at the hospital, we ate dinner, we had sex, now we're going to have dinner again_. _Good Lord._

She headed for the shower, her head still spinning.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Ahhhh, that was kind of cute. I'm a sucker for cute little love stories. Quinn and I share the same taste in music…how did _that_ happen? Man, she has good taste in tattoos and small liberal arts colleges as well. I think I like her. Is she single?

Anyhow. This chapter isn't super important but it'll set up some of where Rachel may be shooting a movie. I know most of you don't want to hear the ins and outs of Columbus. Even though I have lived in the area for three and a half years, I still don't know all the ins and outs! But there are some very liberal and gay-friendly areas that our young heroine may enjoy. Thank you for sticking with me, gentle readers! Hope you had a good weekend.

- Raggy

The first thing Rachel did as Quinn left was text her parents to let them know all was well. It wasn't even 8 a.m. yet, so she doubted anything was open for her to go explore. She pulled up Wikipedia on her iPad and read the article about Columbus over again. She knew Ohio State was the big college area, but there was also the Columbus College of Art and Design, and Columbus State Community College.

The Short North, which was between OSU and downtown Columbus, was described as a gay-friendly, bohemian, artsy kind of neighborhood. That, she supposed, was a good first step for her exploration. It wasn't too far from the highway, and close enough to major parts of town. She sent directions to her email and, with caffeine in her veins, she packed her things, brushed her teeth, and headed to check out.

The brisk walk from the hotel to the restaurant where her rental car was parked felt a bit like a walk of shame, but she didn't care _who_ saw her pulling her suitcase as she walked along Polaris Parkway.

As she reached her car, her phone buzzed. It was Jen.

-_Call me_. This, of course, was agent language for "I want to beat your ass," so Rachel started up the rental car and let it warm up while she dialed her agent.

"What were you up to last night?" Jen asked before Rachel could even say "hello."

"Well, I was getting drinks with a friend from high school up near Columbus. What did _you_ do?" She knew Jen wasn't trying to make idle chat, but it was so fun trying to make her mad sometimes.

"I had a nice peaceful evening, thanks," the other woman responded. "But this morning I woke up and found Perez Hilton all over some photos of you with this _friend from high school_ looking quite tipsy and a little grabby. Just wanted to make sure you weren't on a date or something that you didn't tell me about."

Rachel put the call on speaker so she could browse over to Perez's site. Someone had recognized her last night, and taken several photos of her and Quinn. Most were just of them talking, but one was of Quinn helping her out of the restaurant. Quinn's hand was pretty damn close to her ass, and Rachel looked pretty drunk (though she suspected she was just blinking in that photo).

"You there, Rachel?" Her agent was impatient.

"Yes, sorry. I was looking at the pictures. They're not _terrible_. I've seen worse!"

"I've seen worse of _you_." The agent countered, and cleared her throat. "Well, have fun traipsing around Columbus. Please don't get shot or something…or drunk again. Okay?"

"I'm already drunk, Jen. I'm naked on the side of a busy street."

"Okay, as long as you don't have your nipple rings in, Berry."

"Thanks, Mom."

Jen sighed. "You are terrible." Rachel could tell she was smiling, though. "See you next week."

Rachel dropped her voice to a low, sultry purr. "Ooh, I can't wait, baby."

Jen spluttered something that sounded like "_Fuck you!"_ before the call disconnected. Rachel chuckled and began the drive downtown. She was in a damn good mood.

Several hours later, she had gotten her arms full of brochures, taken lots of pictures, and stopped in to smell about every coffee shop she could find up and down High Street. She liked the Short North's artsy feel and all the stores that had rainbow flags up. But she could also see herself in the Arena District, living in an apartment within walking distance of Nationwide Arena (where a lot of bands played), and going to the Columbus Clippers baseball stadium. And then there was the Ohio State campus area. Plenty of nightlife, some places where local bands played, and the campus sure was pretty. She had briefly driven through the Brewery District and the German Village as well, and hadn't even touched some of the outlying suburbs. So far, she liked what she saw.

People seemed friendly enough. There were a lot of young folks out and about for a Tuesday morning; she assumed many were on break from school or something. She saw a good mix of babies in strollers and puppies on leashes as she walked the streets. And best of all, she was pretty sure no one really recognized her...except a young man in a record store, who was looking through musical soundtracks and did a double take as she walked by.

She sent some of the rainbow flag pictures to her dads, but also to Brittany, Santana, and Kurt. She hesitated in sending them to Quinn – partially because Quinn had probably seen the stores, and partially because she didn't want to seem to overeager to see her again.

She also sent a picture of herself making a face in front of a statue of Brutus Buckeye, and sent it to Josh Radnor and her agent. Josh seemed to appreciate it; Jen just told her to get back to work.

This little vacation was turning out to be quite fun.

Around three, she got a text from Quinn.

_Quinn: - Think you'll be hungry in an hour or so?_

_Rachel: - Wasn't it your Jesus who said 'man did not live on bread alone?' Well, woman does not live on bagel alone._

_Quinn: - SO funny. Can I throw more directions your way?_

_Rachel: - Sure. Just don't keep me out too late or my daddies will worry!_

_Quinn: - Hysterical. Amato's Woodfired Pizza in Delaware, OH. See you around 4:30?_

_Rachel: - Yes ma'am!_

She smiled absentmindedly. Her daddies may _indeed_ worry, but she would be home soon enough.

And first, pizza. Could Columbus pizza measure up to some of the good vegan places she had found in New York? Probably not. But then again, it wasn't the pizza she was after.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: If any of y'all are ever in Columbus, it may be worth your while to stop at Amato's Woodfired Pizza in Delaware (which is north). It's a real place! But I'm actually not sure if they have vegan options. They do in this futuristic version, though, and plenty of vegetarian/omnivore options in real life.

Girls do some chatting in this one about their families and religion. Once I got them started, I couldn't stop…you know how women are.

Thanks for sticking with me. Hope you're all having a good week!

-Raggy

Her phone's GPS told her it would take around 25 minutes to get from downtown Columbus up to the restaurant Quinn wanted to go to, but after she got stuck in traffic and had trouble parking in downtown Delaware, she was 10 minutes late.

She hurried in to the little restaurant, which had an assortment of dark wood tables, beautiful windows, a full bar and a huge wood stove, where employees were cooking pizzas and sandwiches. She spotted Quinn at a table for two, drinking a Blue Moon and talking with two young women who were hovering over the table. Rachel approached her tentatively.

"Hey," Quinn said with a soft smile, standing to greet her with a quick hug.

"Sorry I'm late," Rachel said hurriedly as she took off her coat. "I got caught in traffic."

"No worries," Quinn said. She inclined her head at the girls next to her. "These are two of my friends from the LGBT group I'm in, Faith and Isabel. Ladies, this is my high school friend, Rachel."

"Hi," the two girls said, sticking out their hands. Rachel shook both of them with a smile. Both had medium-brown hair, brown eyes, and an energetic look about them.

"Sisters?" Rachel ventured as she and Quinn sat.

They laughed.

"No," the one on the right said. "Not biologically, at least."

"Oh….?"

"I'm Faith," the one on the left said. "Nice to meet you. Do you live around here?"

"No, I live in New York actually. I'm in Ohio to visit my parents for Thanksgiving time."

"Whoa, New York?" Isabel chimed in. "That's awesome, ma'am. What do you do?"

"Yeah, Rachel." Quinn grinned at her. "What _do_ you do?"

"I'm an actress," she said, and she watched the college students' eyes grow wide.

"Oh my God," said Isabel. "That sounds awesome. We haven't had any classes with Quinn yet but I want to take one because I hear she's good."

"You'll never make it with her in charge," Rachel said dryly, and the younger women laughed. "Just kidding. But I was with her when she got her start, and I'm sure she's an excellent teacher now."

They both nodded and continued to study her as a waiter arrived and took her drink order (Diet Coke). Faith finally nudged the other girl. "Come on, Izzy. I think we need to get to the library."

"Fuck." Isabel smiled at them both. "Nice to meet you, Rachel. See you tomorrow, Q!"

And they were off.

"Did we _ever_ have that much energy?" Rachel asked.

"Doubtful," Quinn mused. "I don't know where they get it."

"They're not _actually_ related?"

"If you count big and little as related…"

"Huh?"

Quinn took a sip of her beer and winked. "What, they didn't have sororities at NYADA? They're in the same sorority; Faith is Isabel's big sis. It's like a mentor position for girls when they first join the house, and those two are closer than close. Their other sisters are a very diverse bunch. A lot of the Greek men and women here are in the theatre. It's such a small community at this school that everyone does a lot of different activities."

"That's pretty cool, actually."

"Yeah." Quinn got a far-off look in her eyes for a minute, then shook her head to clear it and looked back at Rachel. "So. How was Columbus today?"

"I really like the city! It seems like a good place for young, creative, open folks to start a family. Maybe I'll settle down one day," she said with a wink. "And for a temporary home, I think I'll like it, while I'm still being young and crazy and filming a movie." She took a gulp of her soda, which the scruffy waiter had brought to her side without her knowing. "Here, I took some pictures of my favorite spots."

She handed her BlackBerry over to Quinn as she perused the menu. Several interesting topping arrangements were on the menu, and she didn't see anything vegan, but Quinn assured her she could get soy cheese.

"What do you get, Quinn?"

"Uhh…usually the one called a Greek Boy. Olives, feta cheese, spinach leaves…somethin' like that," the other woman replied, flicking through the pictures. She snorted as she found the one of Rachel posing with the OSU mascot. "Really?" she asked as she showed Rachel.

"Yeah, I've got to do what the cool kids do and pretend to love a school I've never even been to!" Quinn snorted at her and handed the BlackBerry over. "Well, if you like Greek young men, I'm going to like…the mushroom one."

"Rachel. Call it by its real restaurant name." The waiter appeared. "Hi there, my friend would like a large Funghi pizza. She definitely loves a _fun guy_," Quinn quipped. "A large one."

Not to be outdone, Rachel said, "And Quinn here wants a large Greek boy please. The younger the boy is, better."

They beamed up at the waiter, who shook his head and took their menus.

"Thanks for that, Dr. Q."

"Uh-huh." They sat in silence for a minute as Rachel looked around. Then, Quinn leaned forward, looking suddenly nervous.

"So, you fly out Thursday," she said casually. "When…when are you coming back to Lima? Holidays?"

"Hanukkah is the 19th-26th this year, so I will be home around then."

"Your dads will be happy to see you again, huh?"

"Oh yeah, they love the holidays. Christmas is on a Sunday this year, right?"

"I think so…"

"Quinn, it's Christmas! You know, only less than 30 days until Christmas. I have, like…20 days." She gasped. "Oh _Lord_ do I need to shop."

The blonde laughed, but it sounded forced. "I feel like the holiday magic is lost on you when you're 28 and single. I'll spend it with my mom, as usual. And her new boyfriend, probably… And maybe my older sister and her little family. We haven't really talked about it."

"Oh, okay." Rachel couldn't think of anything else to say. She got the impression that something may never have healed there.

"Don't tell me the Berrys have something planned for all eight crazy nights of Hanukkah!"

"…welllll…" Truth be told, they _did_. She and her dads liked to plan far in advance, so they had broad ideas for things to do each day of the festival. Quinn could see this in her eyes and simply shook her head.

"Amazing."

"Well, Daddy grew up Methodist. We go to church on Christmas, but he usually goes by himself if ever. He goes to temple with Dad and I every now and then…we kind of are lazy as religion goes."

Quinn was scowling a bit. "Well, you're still a fine group of people. If you're _too_ into religion, you can let it consume you. I mean, how are _we_ to know what's wrong or right? Who really knows what God thinks, or all the miracles Jesus may have performed? We can't _all_ be right, so we hate other people because of what we think is right."

"I guess that's why a lot of people choose a different religion when they get older." Rachel wasn't liking the tone of this. Quinn looked upset. "Daddy used to be a Catholic when he was growing up."

Quinn snorted. "So did I."

"Right, and he left because he felt closer to God and closer to knowing Jesus' love in another sect of Christianity." Quinn looked at her quizzically. "I've heard him talk about it a lot, so I know what he thinks."

"It just confuses me. I think my parents and some other people use religion because they think they're _better_ than other people…and a lot of that comes from the Old Testament, so it baffles me when I meet gay Jewish people."

"It's because we're all in theatre," Rachel said matter-of-factly. "It's full of my Jewish brothers and sisters, so they all turn gay eventually."

This broke the tension, and Quinn let out a genuine chuckle. She reached over and squeezed Rachel's hand.

"Thanks. Maybe I'll talk to your daddy sometime. And there's a gay member of our campus ministry staff who is in our LGBT group…I could talk to him, too. I think I'm bitter because of Russell and his whole pregnancy scandal attitude."

"Of course. Mikey likes to talk. A lot. Just don't make him nervous if you ever do meet him. Then he goes crazy."

It was mostly joking, the tone they were using, but Rachel couldn't help envisioning Quinn and Michael sharing a glass of wine, talking animatedly about Jesus. Michael enjoyed church and reading the Bible, but didn't want to go by himself. Besides, in true Methodist fashion, he only had motivation to go to things when there was food involved.

Quinn excused herself to go to the restroom, not long before the waiter was back with two delicious-looking pizzas. Rachel switched a piece of her Funghi pizza with a piece of the Greek Boy and began eating it innocently as Quinn returned. That earned her an eye roll and a "really, Berry?" from the blonde. But it was worth it. Not only because the pizza was delicious, but because Quinn's pretend pouting as she ate the mushroom pizza was pretty damn cute.


	11. Chapter 11

Rachel hit the road almost two hours later. She had leftover pizza slices for her fathers, and her lips still felt tingly from a kiss she stole from Quinn on the street.

She sighed as the lights of the little town faded behind her. The drive to Lima was only an hour and a half away, but it would seem a lot farther with only her thoughts to keep her company.

_I didn't even get to see the school_, she thought wistfully.

There was a nagging doubt in her brain that this last 24 hours had been a one-time deal, that Quinn was going to go teach and Rachel was going to go be a star again…and when the holidays came, Quinn wouldn't want to see her.

She wasn't sure how she felt. Quinn was such a different person than her high school self. She knew that. But there was something more than sexual attraction there. There _had_ been, for a long time, masked behind fear and Glee club competition. Was it possible that Quinn, like Santana, had only acted so rashly and angrily throughout high school because she was hiding her true self?

Well. The best people to understand a Quinn-Santana comparison were a phone call away. She carefully found Santana's number and dialed it, hoping she and her wife were at home.

"Hey, Rach!"

"Hi, Brittany. You're not Santana!"

"Nooooo, but San is getting the babies to bed so she can't really answer her phone. I'm glad I picked it up though! We haven't talked to you in a while."

"I know, Britt…I'm sorry. I've been busy." Brittany was always so happy to talk to her, and would listen to anything she had to say. She felt a bit guilty that she hadn't kept up much, but her life had left her no room for friends while _Chicago_ was still playing.

"So, how was the twins' first Thanksgiving? Did they get turkey-flavored baby food?"

"Rachel, yes, and I need to tell you something." Brittany dropped her voice considerably. "_It's not really turkey_. I really hope they know that. It tasted awful. I taste-tested because I love turkey but San didn't turn the oven on enough so our turkey took a long time. I was hungry."

Rachel laughed. The Pierce-Lopez babies were a brother and sister, twins, adopted from birth because their birth mom couldn't care for them. Brittany and Santana had taken James and Julie into their care, and from the pictures that Rachel occasionally got, it looked like the babies were well-loved. They were nine months, now.

"Are they crawling around a lot?"

"Oh yeah. They like to chase the cat. Lord Tubbington is still at my parents' house, because he's old, but I think they would definitely catch him."

Rachel thought of her two cats at home with a twinge of guilt. One of her friends in the apartment complex loved taking care of them, but she knew they missed their real owner.

"Hey, Santana is here. Do you want to talk to her now?"

"Sure. Thank you, Britt." There was some rustling, and Santana's voice came in.

"Hey! I'm putting you on speaker, okay? I'm trying to put away these books that James pulled off the shelf. How are ya?"

"Hi, Santana. I'm pretty good. I'm driving back to Lima from Columbus right now. As you could tell from my pictures, I did some sightseeing today."

"Yeah, thanks for sending those! What, are you going to do a concert there or something?"

"No, I'm thinking about filming a movie with Josh Radnor. It would be filmed in parts of Columbus."

Santana let out a breath. "Woooowwww. That's awesome!"

"We can say we know a real live movie star!" Brittany chimed in. There was a pause, and Rachel could hear them putting away the books.

"…San, I have kind of a personal question for you."

"Oh damn."

"Is this like an interview?" Brittany asked.

"Well, you can help, Brittany," Rachel said. "Listen, you two…I ran in to Quinn Fabray the other day at the hospital. I was there with my dad, and she was there with one of her college students."

"Oh yeah, I knew she was all Dr. Quinn now," Santana said. "How is she?"

"She's…well…she's _different_." It was the only way Rachel knew how to put it. "She seems so happy, and open, and at peace with herself. It really surprised me."

"Hey, we all changed when we left McKinley," Santana said. "Remember how much of a bitch I was? I mean…it was a lot of repressed stuff, and I still regret it, but I was a kid. I didn't know how to express my feelings for a long time."

"I think Quinn is the same way, San. I know went through a lot as a teenager. But she…well, she's _family_ now, if you catch my drift."

"Like, _family_ as in to me and Britts and Kurt and Blaine?"

"Yes, and also to me," Rachel said, heart pounding a bit. She had never explicitly told them she was a lesbian.

"Wow, baby, we have a big family!" Brittany said, and Rachel could hear the smile in her voice. San laughed, and Rachel could hear her kiss her wife on the forehead or cheek.

"All that teenage angst. Who knew she was secretly a lesbian?" Santana was joking, she could tell.

"But…is that _it_? Like, is that why she was so upset in high school? She seems so happy now. I met some of her students today, and –"

"Damn, Berry, how many times have you seen her since you ran into her?"

"Just two," Rachel said innocently. "But I can't get over it. It's so strange to see her like this."

"Look, she had a lot to deal with in school. Sue Sylvester. Pregnancy. Being popular after being the fat loser. Her fucking parents. And she was gay the whole time? No wonder she lashed out. She was a scared little girl on the inside, and we knew it. I was too, but she had way more baggage than me."

"I think your bookbag was bigger than Quinn's," said Brittany.

"Not that kind of baggage, babygirl."

"Ohhhh."

"But anyway," Santana continued, "Girl was all sorts of messed up. She needed friends, and she had them, but it took a while for her to get out of her own misery. Now, I guess she's successful, and she took some time to find herself or whatever. Look at you, Berry, you're not hardly as annoying as you used to be. What changed with you?"

"I'm doing what I love. I'm successful, self-sufficient…"

"Yep, and it sounds like Quinn is, too. _I_ sure am doing what I love, every night in bed. Right, Britts?"

"You work in a bed? I thought you drove a police car like in the movies."

Santana laughed. "Point is, there's a lot that's happened to all of us in ten years. If you are so curious, talk to her about it. Quinn has always needed someone to listen to her, but she never talked until you least expected it. So, be patient and you can find your answer."

Rachel nodded on the other end.

"Damn, I hear a baby crying. Listen, Rach, we love you but we gotta go. Stay in touch, okay? Take your time with Quinn if you two keep talking…she has always been a mystery as far as what she _really_ wants."

"Bye, Santana. Thank you! Bye, Britt."

"Bye!" they chorused, and the call ended.

Well, that was a start, she supposed. Be patient, spend time with Quinn, and maybe she could find out how such a beautiful and angry teenager turned into such a beautiful and happy young woman.

She wasn't sure when she would have time to do that, though. Quinn had been reserved when Rachel mentioned seeing her again over the holidays. But that was three weeks from now. It wasn't too clingy of Rachel to want to get together again, right? And it would be the holidays. It was a time for friends and family to get together. Even Puck flew in to Lima to spend time with his mom. Perhaps the Puckermans would get together with the Berrys again, as they had in the past! And then, Rachel thought, she could invite Quinn and Judy. It would be a mix of the Jews and the Christians, so Michael wouldn't be alone. And everyone would be in the holiday mood, so Quinn and her mother might not feel so awkward. Maybe it would work.

This happy thought of the holidays sustained her for rest of the drive to Lima. She practically danced into her fathers' house, planting a kiss on both of them and handing them the pizza box. If they had any questions about Quinn or Columbus, they were silenced as their daughter squeezed between them on the couch and demanded that they try the pizza.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I've been to NYC once, so I don't know a whole lot about the living situations and everything. But here we see Rachel's life in NYC and we finally get to meet her agent. Yay plot development!

Thursday afternoon, she was boarding a plane to LaGuardia. Her fathers had hugged her tight, and Michael got teary-eyed as usual. Isaac took yet _another_ picture of her with her suitcases to put on Facebook.

"Stop it, you two. I'll see you in a few weeks!" she had said.

She was used to flying, but the quick ascent into the air always made her queasy. The flight was only an hour and a half, so she read some magazines and drank some coffee.

Back home in New York, she took a taxi back to her apartment in lower Manhattan. It was a nice building, within walking distance of the main theatres and Times Square, and her living room window overlooked a section of Central Park. It was nice to be near the park when she felt stressed or sad, and she would sometimes go take a walk or sit on a bench and just think for an hour or two.

Her cats were certainly happy to see her, as they began meowing and pouncing at her feet when she walked in. She had found them both on the streets since she moved in, and she supposed they were both around eight. Ian McKellen was a grey tabby with a squished face, who Rachel had found roaming around the off-Broadway production of "Lord of the Rings" when he was a kitten. She originally wanted to foster him out to a friend or something, but he cuddled his way into her heart with his clumsiness and slight mental deficiency. A year or so later, around Christmas, she found another feline friend – a small calico cat, who was hiding under cars outside a Cuban restaurant and yowling. Rachel had fed the little lady, and she followed her all the way home, still meowing. Rachel took the little cat in. Ian loved her, and within another day or two, Gloria Estefan the cat was another permanent fixture in her life.

Rachel put her suitcases in her room, and flopped backwards on her bed. Immediately, Ian and Gloria were on her chest, nipping at her chin and purring. Gloria was already meowing her whiskers off. She laughed. As much as she loved being in Lima, she loved returning to her apartment and her little "children" at the end of the day.

She heard her phone singing in the other room - to her surprise, it was Jen. She sighed and shunted the cats onto the floor. _So much for relaxing_!  
>"Hello?"<br>"Rachel!" Jen sounded cheerful. "What are you doing for dinner?"  
>"Well, I..."<br>"Perfect. See you at six. Chipotle in Times Square."  
>"...okay..."<br>Click.  
>She was baffled. What could her agent possibly have to tell her?<p>

She snapped a photo of the cats and sent it to her fathers, with the caption "Thanks for returning our mama to us!" With a moment's hesitation, she texted Quinn to let her know all was well and that she was at home.

_That's not too pushy, right?_  
>Rachel took a taxi over to the restaurant, and was mildly surprised when Jen hugged her as a greeting.<br>"How's my favorite Broadway star today? You look good. How are your dads?"

"All right, lady. What gives?"  
>Jen laughed. "Come on. Let's get something to eat."<p>

They stood in line and ordered their burritos amidst the usual Times Square throng of people. Rachel loaded her burrito bowl up with every vegan thing there was, and got a Diet Coke to keep up her strength for whatever announcement she was bound to hear.  
>The star followed the agent to a secluded table. Jen was about Rachel's height, a bit heavier, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Despite her height, she gave of an air of authority, which probably came from years of being an agent. Rachel didn't even know how old she was, but her best guess was about 35.<br>"So," Jen said, fixing her eyes on Rachel with laserlike intensity. "Do you have big plans for the holidays?"  
>"We do a lot for Hanukkah," Rachel replied. "But it's mostly just at my parents'. We have friends over and whatnot."<br>"Uh-huh." Jen took a bite of her burrito bowl and continued to stare at her.  
>"...that's kind of it."<br>"Do you ever travel?"  
>"No...we just...never made it a tradition, so why start now?"<br>"Why, indeed." Jen had a small smile on her face.  
>"All right, what gives?" Rachel was being tormented, and she knew it. The agent laughed and set her fork down.<br>"Okay, okay. Well, I got a call from Ryan Seacrest yesterday...and he asked me what you were doing for New Years'."  
>"Like he wants a date?"<br>"No, like he wants to know if you'd do him a favor."  
>"What?"<br>"Well, one of the acts he had lined up bailed on him. He's got no one else who he thinks would be good with the NYC crowd. ...then, he said he talked to Josh Radnor on his radio show and Josh told him you might be in his movie. So, Ryan thought it would be good for his show and for your publicity if you sang for New Year's Eve in Times Square."  
>Rachel's jaw dropped.<br>"What?"  
>Jen's grin was a mile wide. "Think about it! Millions watching you perform some of your greatest hits on Broadway, or even some old classic songs, on the TV and in New York. It could be one of the most awesome things you have ever done. There are going to be all sorts of artists there with you. And I thought maybe your dads would enjoy being there with you. Ryan said he could get you four tickets besides yourself. So, that's me of course, your dads, and then maybe someone else. The cats or something."<p>

"Oh my…_God_." Rachel's mind was filled with a million things. Ryan Seacrest, introducing her. Shivering outside as she counted down. Hugging and cheering with other celebrities. Her fathers beaming in the background.

Jen was ecstatic. "You look like you are considering it, at least. Do you know what you may sing?"

Rachel laughed. "Is 'Auld Lang Syne' out of the question?"

"You can sing whatever the hell you want. Ryan really needed someone, so he's going to give you dibs on all the old classics…but I know you don't love the Christmas songs as much as the rest of us." She winked.

"Jen. Thank you. This is…wow."

"You can take a day or so, okay? I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. Just let me know what you want to sing, who you are bringing, etc."

"No, are you kidding me?" Rachel cried. "Of course I'm doing it, you twat."

Jen burst out laughing. "Well, you are so welcome."

Rachel could do nothing but eat her food in shocked silence.

_New Year's Eve. I'll be everywhere. With all sorts of celebs. And my dads, with Jen, and…_

That fourth ticket. She could always give it to Puck, but he already lived in NYC and would probably be playing with his own band somewhere. Kurt and Blaine, she supposed, would be elsewhere for the big night.

A pretty blonde woman occupied the forefront of her mind just then. What if…what if she asked Quinn to go? Being behind the scenes at the ball drop would make most people outside of show biz ecstatic. Would she want to?

As they finished their dinner and Rachel thanked her agent again, she headed home with her mind swimming.

_Would Quinn really want to?_


	13. Chapter 13

The beginning of December brought a Maybelline photo shoot for Rachel, which Jen had coordinated for her. It was her only big project before the holidays, and she was happy to be keeping a little busy. She had made it a point to catch up with her old friends before she went back to Ohio, but other than that it was a little boring in the big city.

She had finally made a decision on the movie, and told Josh she would be moving to Columbus in January. Filming would begin in late January and probably last until March or April. It was a romantic comedy, unlike anything Rachel had really ever done. She was playing the younger sister to Zooey Deschanel's character, and Josh was the main male character.

"I'll send you the script, lady," Josh had said. "It's still rough, so let me know if you want a love interest as well! Some big burly man, right? Or do you like the clean-shaven executive types? Are you a sexy housewife in your own mind?"

Rachel had told him to fuck off on that one, which he enjoyed. She was positive that he had figured out she was gay, so he was just saying it to mess with her.

So now, apart from her photo shoot, she had packing to look forward to. She would buy a car, so she could begin the moving process as she went down to Ohio. It was kind of exciting, but the cats had never traveled and she was praying they didn't puke on her new car.

Her contact with Quinn had been minimal – just texting, a few emails with links to articles or cool pictures that one thought the other may enjoy. Rachel wanted to talk to Quinn – she really did – but she was hesitant. Quinn had explicitly said she wanted their friendship to move slowly, especially since it had gotten off to such a…well, fiery start.

So, Rachel was patient and didn't broach the subject of the holidays or seeing Quinn again for a while. She didn't exactly know what she was waiting for, but she knew it wasn't time to ask yet, or bring up anything serious. She didn't know when exactly to bring it up, but she knew the time would come.

The time came two weeks after they had last seen each other, and the day before the Maybelline photo shoot.

Rachel was on her computer at home, in between checking e-mails, reading her Twitter feed, and trying to buy some cheap containers on eBay. Her phone rang, and without looking at it, she picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rachel." It took a second to register the tired voice on the other line as Quinn's. Rachel immediately swiveled her chair around, away from the computer, to give this call the undivided attention it deserved.

"Hi, Quinn. What's going on?"

"Not a lot. What are you up to?"

"Um, I'm just hanging out at home, really." Quinn's voice was devoid of much emotion. Maybe she was sick? Then Rachel glanced at the clock. It was 11:30 a.m. on a Wednesday.

"No school today?"

"I called in sick. Just not feeling too hot I guess. I had a migraine last night and it lasted until the morning, so I told them all last night not to show up in case."

"Are you any better?"

"Eh." Quinn sounded groggy. "I think a little bit."

"That's good." Rachel was still kind of confused. Was Quinn just calling to talk?

"Can you tell me about your day?" The question surprised her from the other end. Maybe Quinn really _did_ just want to talk.

"Sure. I'm not really doing anything. …but… Kind of checking email, kind of on Tumblr."

"No exciting lunches with other celebs?"

"I did see Noah the other day! He's going to come home for the holidays with me."

"Uh-huh," Quinn said. "Tell him hey for me when you see him. What else are you up to?

"Uh, I'm looking for storage things online so I can start moving to Columbus soon."

"Wait, you're really going to?" Quinn sounded kind of happy, all of a sudden.

"Like there was any doubt! I'm driving back for the holidays with the cats."

"You have _cats?_"

"Yes, they're great companions."

"Tell me about them."

"Well…I've got Ian McKellen, who is a grey tabby. And Gloria Estefan, who is a calico and loves to sing. They miss me when I'm away, so currently they have to be three inches from where I am sitting at all times."

Quinn laughed. "Are they good in the car?"

"I have never taken them anywhere," Rachel confessed. "I think they should be. They're good kitties. I'll leave them at my dads' while I'm finishing things here in New York."

"Have you decided on your place yet?"

"No. I'll narrow it down while I'm home for the holidays."

"Mmhmm. That's coming up soon, right?"

"Sure is." Rachel knew Quinn was trying not to seem too excited, so she played it cool as well.

"Do you think we could get dinner or something?"

Rachel smiled to her herself. "Of course we can, Quinn."

"Okay. I'd like that."

"So would I."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. To ask about Christmas dinner, or to not?

She decided to go for it.

"Hey, Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"What are you and your mother doing for Christmas dinner?"

Quinn laughed derisively. "I don't really know what my mom's up to. I think her new boyfriend is taking her on some cute little cruise or something, actually, so I may just stay in Columbus. Why?"

Rachel sighed. _Damn_.

"Well…the Puckermans usually join the Berrys for dinner on Christmas night because everyone but Daddy is Jewish and everything is closed on that evening anyhow. You are more than welcome because it's the holidays and it's a time for families, but I also understand if it's awkward for you…We usually sit around and eat takeout and play board games if you want to come, but I understand if it's…"

"Rachel." Quinn cut her off softly. "Thank you. I appreciate it. I'll…I'll think about it, okay? I know you and Puck are okay with me, but your parents may be a little wary."

Rachel sighed. "I understand. It's just out there, okay?"

She wasn't going to mention New Year's. Not just yet.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"So what are you doing _now_?"

Rachel laughed. "Still sitting here. Why. What are you doing?"

"Flipping through channels. You have satellite TV?"

"Yes…"

"Do me a favor?"

"Okay…?"

"Can you explain 'RENT' to me? It's on Starz right now."

Rachel laughed and flipped to the channel, right in the middle of "Tango: Maureen."

"Okay, the blonde guy with glasses is Mark and he's dancing with Joanne. Joanne is dating Mark's ex, Maureen, who is now a lesbian."

"Why are they dancing?"

"Quinn, it's a _musical_ and Maureen made Mark help Joanne fix things for her performance."

"Is she a performer like a_ stripper_? Does she have AIDS?"

"…no, Quinn… that's Mimi, remember?"

"I'm so confused."

So, Rachel explained the movie and who was who, and what they were singing about, to Quinn, who had never actually _seen_ "RENT" and only ever heard people talk about it in her classes.

"I felt too stupid to admit I had never watched it, so I pretended I had seen it through my entire college career because everybody, like, _loved_ it," she said. "I tried watching it once but I was drunk so it was confusing."

Rachel could say nothing, and just explained her way through the next two hours of the movie.

When it was done, and Quinn had successfully understood the plot and all the songs, the blonde had decided she liked the movie and understood it after all.

"Well, thanks for being my interpreter."

"Of course."

"…no seriously," Quinn continued. "Thank you. You made me feel better."

"Headache all gone?"

"Mm. I was a little down, too. Don't know what it was, but that cheered me up."

"Nothing like a musical, eh?"

"Or not." Quinn chuckled. "Nah, sometimes it's just good to talk to someone."

"I know the feeling."

"Trouble is, sometimes I really don't have anyone to talk to! I've used theatre as a method of self-expression, which helps, but some days you just get sad, you know?"

"I'll talk to you." It sounded so cheesy, and she knew it, but there were days when even Rachel Berry felt alone and needed someone to hang out with.

"Thank you," Quinn said again, and Rachel knew she meant it.

"Well," she continued. "Thanks for explaining that movie to me. We'll talk soon, okay?"

"Yes, sounds good."

"Bye, Rachel."

"Bye, Quinn."

Rachel waited for the other woman to end the call before slowly putting her cell phone down. All of a sudden, this packing and this waiting seemed like a waste of time. She wanted to be in Ohio, _right now_, giving Quinn a hug and watching a musical together, or to have Quinn here, playing with cats, and maybe walking through New York together.

She gave up her eBay and her email and sat on the couch to watch something else.

Halfway through "The Birdcage," her phone buzzed.

_Quinn: - I'm sorry if that was awkward._

She shook her head at her BlackBerry. Really, Quinn?

_Rachel: - Not awkward. I like talking to you._

_Quinn: - I know I said I didn't want to rush, and I felt like that was too "give me attention, I'm having a bad day" for friends._

Rachel shook her head at her phone. That wasn't true.

And even if Quinn had straight up said, "I need you," Rachel would have tried to help. She would always be there for her friends. Puck landed in the hospital after being thrown into one of his own mosh pits, and Rachel had been right there to nurse him to health and tell him what a dumbass he was. Mike was caught in traffic when Tina was giving birth to their first child, so Rachel had taken the subway to the hospital to hold her old friend's hand. It wasn't any different with Quinn. Or was it? Rachel couldn't tell. She hated when people got all emotional over texts.

Why couldn't she just have called her back?

_Rachel: - Quinn, I understand. You just needed to talk._

_Quinn: - Yeah._

_Rachel: - I didn't read anything into it. Promise._

_Quinn: -Yeah._

_Rachel: - You'll be okay?_

_Quinn: - I'll be okay. Probably going to figure out "RENT" again. Talk to you soon._

Rachel shook her head. So Quinn was having a bad day and wanted to talk. It didn't _mean_ anything…but Quinn had just acted all awkward about it. So, had Quinn wanted to talk just because she needed someone to talk to, or because she missed Rachel?

In her most theatrical manner, Rachel flung herself over the couch and sighed.

_Women_.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: They're movin' out this chapter! Our girls will be together again soon. Thanks for reading.

The next day found Rachel in the dressing rooms at the L'Oréal building, preparing herself for close camera shots and plenty of mascara. She was the face of Maybelline New York's newest, most-improved foundation. They had wanted a stage actress to test it under the harsh lights of Broadway and then tell the world with a smile on a magazine page how wonderful it was.

Of course, the _au naturel _look wouldn't be complete without a little mascara and lipstick, right?

As she followed one of the assistants to the photo shoot, she sent Quinn a text.

_Rachel: - Free Maybelline? I'm getting some after this photo shoot in about a billion different shades. You're lighter than me, but darker than Kurt, so there's plenty for all_.

_Quinn: - Seriously? I don't know how well that New York look will go over here, though. Are you in purple eyeshadow and foot-long lashes today?_

_Rachel: - No, it's actually a very smooth liquid foundation that they're marketing. They wanted theatre people to try it and see how well it blends. Give it to your students too! They'll love it._

_Quinn: - Sure, free makeup, right? They're in college. They love free anything._

Indeed, when Rachel wrapped the photo shoot, they offered her samples.

"Ms. Berry, could you recommend these to your friends? We rely so much on celebrity endorsements." The young intern handed her a box, and she gladly took it.

"Do you have any more?" The young man broke into a mile-wide grin and pulled another box from behind a door.

"There's a bunch of different kinds in there, Ms. Berry. Thank you so much!"

And with her arms full of Maybelline, Rachel exited the building.

Once home, she texted Quinn. The cats sniffed the boxes as Rachel began writing on the cardboard.

_Rachel: - What's your address?_

_Quinn: - Stop stalking me and sending me gifties, Berry! Just kidding, send it to the school and address it to me._

_Rachel: - Got it. Expect something soon._

She Googled the address and wrote it on the box with a flourish.

As for the other damn box of samples…well. She supposed she would leave it with Kurt or Blaine and have them pass it around their local acting group. She already had too many things as it was!

By December 18, her apartment was a lot barer than usual. She had packed some spring items, random furniture, and whatever else she could pack into her new Corolla. There was room for Puck's luggage, her winter luggage, and the cat carriers (though it was pretty tight). Her neighbor, Anita, would check on the house momentarily, and Rachel of course paid her well for her troubles.

It was weird, to be moving away for a while. But on the other hand, she had moved into New York in this exact fashion for college. Her fathers had made the trip up with her luggage in the summer, and would return with her in the spring. For the holidays, she would fly home with a carry-on. It was a series of small trips and packed vehicles, and it got her where she had needed to be.

The summer before her senior year, she had stayed in NYC to do some work on her future. The rest of her life had come to her in a car, again, delivered by her fathers. She hadn't left the city since, which was good, because she had accrued quite a few items.

Now, she was leaving in the same way, with her essentials in the car and a companion next to her for the road ahead. Buying a car wasn't something people just did on a whim, but Isaac's car was getting pretty old. Rachel was planning on giving him the Corolla when she was moved in to her apartment – but for now, she definitely needed a vehicle to get her to and from New York. Besides, it was cheaper than flying, and it gave her time to hang out with Noah.

Puck was in an alternative rock band called Check Please, which he often said should be just called Noah and the Arks. He was the lead singer and guitarist. The band had done well, and with several EPs and a loyal fan following behind them, Rachel knew they were poised for longevity.

The two had remained friends since high school, and caught up over coffee or drinks when they had time. It was good to have someone who knew her well, and who was also single most of the time – getting drunk with a married couple wasn't as much fun as getting drunk with Puck. Besides, he introduced her to new music and new live music venues all the time. In turn, she took him to Broadway shows and receptions. Some people might have thought they were dating, so she let them. Not many outside of her close friends knew she was a lesbian, and a few pictures of her and Puck circulating the Internet kept the bloggers off of her back.

The one of her hanging on to Quinn for real life, she had to admit, looked suspicious. But Rachel wasn't ready to come out. Not quite yet…

Maybe someone would snap a photo of her and Puck leaving New York together, and Perez would get off of that pic of her and Quinn. It would sure make Jen's life a lot easier!

She pulled in front of Puck's apartment at 7 a.m. on the morning they were driving to Ohio. It was the 15th, a Thursday, and Rachel wanted to get a bright and early start. Such an early morning was no problem for Rachel, but Puck was definitely up way too soon for his liking.

He slumped into the front seat after putting his luggage in next to the cats. Even without his usual mohawk, he retained his youthful good looks and rock-star attitude.

"Have I ever told you I hate you?" he grumbled as Rachel drove away.

"Stop it, Noah."

"I need some fuckin' coffee, you crazy woman."

Rachel did, as well, and they pulled through Starbucks on their way out of the city. As the skyline faded, and the two sipped their caffeine, Rachel couldn't help but feel excited.

The drive would be about ten hours. Both of them had to use the restroom after about two hours, and then Puck took the driver's seat.

They chatted idly for a bit about their careers and Rachel's move to Ohio. Puck mentioned how his band was playing a local venue for New Year's Eve.

"It's invitation-only, so do you want to come? I don't know who I'd invite otherwise."

"Actually, I'm singing that night too."

Puck raised his eyebrows and glanced at her with a smile. "No way! Where?"

"Well…" Rachel shifted in the passenger's seat and tousled her hair. "The big one. In the middle of it all."

Puck's jaw dropped. "No way. You're playing Times Square?"

"You bet your ass."

"Fuck me sideways, Rachel! That is fantastic. Congratulations!" He pounded her arm and almost swerved off the road in doing so. She gasped, and then snorted at him.

"Yeah, I'm excited."

"Well, what are you singing?"

Rachel hesitated. She had thought about it for a while but nothing jumped yet. Since it was such late notice, she had a day or two more to figure it out.

"I was thinking about 'And All That Jazz," but that's a little…adult…for New Year's."

"What about a holiday song?"

"They're all about Christmas… and it's kind of late for those."

"That's true." Puck furrowed his brow for a bit. "How about a Barbra classic? Or Celine?" he asked after a minute.

"I was thinking of that, yeah."

"Who the hell wouldn't want to hear you do 'O Holy Night' or 'Cause I'm Your Lady?'"

"That is NOT what it is called, Noah."

"Whatever. Or the one from the Kate Winslet's tits movie."

"_Noah!"_

He grinned impishly.

"Okay, maybe not. How about something from a show you've done in the past? People like show tunes. Or even something from Glee Club. When was the last time you listened to those old recordings from our senior year and sang along?"

"It's probably been a while…" The club had gotten together to record some old favorites before the Class of 2012 left McKinley.

"Didn't someone bootleg a copy of our 'West Side Story,' too? In fact…" Puck reached into his jacket pocket. "I think I have some old Glee stuff on my iPod."

Before Rachel could protest, he was scrolling through his music as he sped down the highway. He smiled as he found something he wanted, hit play, and plugged the adapter into his iPod.

The familiar harmonies of "Don't Stop Believin'" filtered through the speakers. Puck sang, loudly, over Finn's part and beckoned Rachel to sing along. She rolled her eyes, smiling, and joined him.

"…Just a city boy…"

They sang their way through that song, and then Puck did his best to imitate Santana's voice as Rachel played Mercedes on "River Deep, Mountain High." It wasn't half bad, but Puck was straining a bit by the end.

Santana had forced Mr. Schue to keep a recording of "Trouty Mouth" on the CD. Puck sang it to Rachel as best he could while still driving.

They were laughing as Rachel heard the beginnings of "Don't Rain on My Parade."

"Oh…" She had forgotten what it felt like to listen to that recording, taped live from Sectionals her sophomore year. When all had seemingly gone to hell, her Barbra standard saved the day (as well as some quick thinking by Finn and Mr. Schuester).

She stared out the window, lost in thought, and Puck wisely chose not to make her sing. Things had been so simple back then, compared to now. Music had helped them all put into words what they could not in their teenage years. That solo had been one of her favorite moments in all four years of high school.

It was almost like coincidence that another favorite moment played right after that.

Rachel was just shaking the past out of her head, when a soft guitar intro reached her ears and a sweet voice followed it.

"… I wish I could tie you up in my shoes, make you feel unpretty too…"

She hadn't listened to her duet with Quinn in years because something made her insides ache. Not just the memory of her almost-nose-job, but also because thinking of Quinn gave her feeling she couldn't describe. Even now, after years of trying to hide her complicated feelings for the blonde woman, it still affected her.

She couldn't stop herself. Tears began welling in her eyes as she heard her own voice harmonize with Quinn's. Her heart started pounding, abruptly.

"Puck…wait…can we pull over?"

"What? …yeah…" They were almost at an exit, and the tears were now free-falling down her cheeks. She felt the car slow down, turn, and pull into a parking lot. Rachel opened the door of the car and almost fell out in her scramble to go inside. Sobbing, she ran to the building they stopped at, wrenched open the door, and found the bathroom.

Luckily, she was the only one inside. She splashed water on her face and forced herself to calm down. Deep breaths. In and out. _Don't think, don't fucking think about anything_. She stared at herself, blankly, willing her heart to stop racing.

Her own reaction had surprised her. She didn't quite know what it was – she was nervous about moving, she was stressed about what would happen after this movie. She was perpetually worried about if her fathers were okay and if they had enough money. It wasn't out of the ordinary for her to get anxious sometimes, but the Lexapro helped her keep her head on.

Sometimes, though, she got way too overwhelmed. This…nothing had ever felt like this.

She was afraid of her future, yes, partially because she was unsure of what would happen with Quinn. The fact that she was _crying _over their old duet scared her. Could she be falling hard for her old high school tormentor? What would happen when they saw each other again?

As dramatic as Rachel Berry could be, the fact that a duet with Quinn could make her cry was a surprise to Rachel herself.

_This could be serious. I could be falling in love. I could seriously be falling in love with Quinn_ fucking_ Fabray._

It took a full five minutes until her eyes and mind were clear. She exited the bathroom to find Puck, sipping a red Icee, waiting for her at a booth with a tray of He offered her another Icee, which she took. He had also ordered her a veggie burger. She almost burst in to tears again at his kindness, but slid into the booth next to him instead. He was already munching some sort of hamburger. Her stomach didn't feel good, but she did her best to eat something. It was after 11 a.m. already, and they still had a long day ahead.

They ate quietly, cleaned their table, and put their coats back on. Puck put his arm around Rachel as he led her out of the Burger King and back to the car.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: We have only been in Rachel's head, which I know can be overwhelming! We visit Quinn and Puck's minds this chapter… I know there hasn't been a lot of action, and I am sorry, but we'll be back to the romance soon!

Also, sorry the original version of this had some weird line spacing. Should be better now!

Puck fiddled with his iPhone as the two drove on in silence. Wisely, he had turned off the old Glee recordings. He knew something was up. Rachel didn't just burst out crying for no reason. He supposed she was nostalgic for the old days or something, but didn't pry. She would talk eventually.  
>Rachel had asked him to turn something else on - just so there could be some background noise, he supposed. He found the local NPR station, which he knew she enjoyed, and let her sit in silence.<p>

After half an hour, she spoke up.

"I'm sorry..."

Puck gave her the best eyebrow raise he could muster.

"Are you kidding? I'm the one who should be saying sorry...I didn't mean to make you so upset."

"I didn't know how much that would affect me. I just wasn't ready for it."

He nodded and studied her. Her eyes were fixed on the road, staring with a vapid expression. The skin around her knuckles was white from the death grip she had on the wheel.

"...are you okay? Can I do anything?"

She looked over at him and smiled slightly.

"I'll be okay. Thank you, Noah." She squeezed his knee. He didn't quite believe her but he didn't want to push her, either.

"Noah, you know I like women, right?"

"Well yeah, I met that old girlfriend of yours, remember?"

"Yes, but you know I _only_ like women?"

"Oh. Well, I do now, and you know I don't give a fuck."

"It's just...that song reminds me of a girl." Puck nodded.

"That's the thing about music. It hits you, and it hits you hard. Some songs make me sad, too." He didn't think of Shelby Corcoran often, but certain songs brought her back to his mind. "We used to sing all the time to let all those feelings out, huh?"

She nodded. "I haven't listened to those old classics in years. All I ever hear going around my head are musicals."

"Yeah, and I love making my own music, myself. We don't cover a lot of songs but maybe I'll start. I miss doing those numbers with Glee."

"So do I, actually," Rachel said. She hesitated. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said.

"Do you ever keep up with Quinn?"

"No, not...too much. I think we ended on a bad foot senior year when she went all crazy and wanted Beth back. But we went to see her. Beth, I mean. A few years ago at the holidays." Seeing Shelby had been hard, but Beth was worth it. She had dragged him all around the house, showing him all her toys. She was still young, but he was pretty sure she understood her relationship to Quinn and Puck.

And how does one move on after a relationship as strange as theirs? He and Quinn were fine, albeit a little awkward in person, but neither went out of their way to see the other.

Rachel was looking at him sideways as he thought.

"I, uh...I ran into her the other day."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm, back in Lima. She was at the hospital with one of her drama students while I was with my dad."

Last time they got together, Quinn had been talking about becoming a teacher. He was happy for her - she had finally found something she loved in life.

"She lives in Columbus now," Rachel continued. "We had dinner a few times before I left."

But something about the way she said it made him curious.

"Uh-huh," he said, pretending he didn't suspect anything.

"Seeing her again, after so long...damn, Puck, she's so much different than in high school."

He had noticed that too, and nodded. "She's a lot happier, I agree. I'm glad everything worked out for her."

Rachel was holding something back. Puck said, carefully, "well, keep an eye on my baby mama when you're in Cowtown okay?"

"Mmhmm." She smiled at this. Puck didn't care if Rachel and Quinn were friends again. He loved both of them and wanted the best in their lives. 

Rachel looked hesitant again.

"Do you think your mom would mind if we invited her to the Christmas dinner with us? I don't think she's doing anything with her family…and no one should be alone for Christmas. Well, I…kind of already invited her…"

Puck shrugged. "Yeah, why the hell not? My mom realized I was an idiot a long time ago, and I know she has nothing against Quinn…she always has seen the best in people. Even my dad." He smiled at Rachel and squeezed her knee again. "It'll be fun!"

She looked like she needed a little more convincing, but he figured it was best to leave it for now.

Quinn watched the cars pass as she lifted her cigarette to her lips.

The students were on break, so she didn't have any hesitations in heading to a local restaurant for happy hour. Well, normally she wouldn't care either way...but students who saw her alone at the bar, drinking beer, may be a little suspicious.

Without her drama classes, she didn't have much to occupy her mind. Normally, this wasn't a problem. But today was the day Rachel was coming home to Lima, and Quinn didn't want to sit at home and stew in her feelings. So, she was stewing in the bar instead, watching ESPN and downing a few beers. Happy hour began at four, so she could enjoy herself on a drama teacher's salary.

She flicked her cigarette to the sidewalk with a sigh. She had been outside almost twenty minutes. It was cold, but she didn't mind. It was kind of refreshing, the fall chill in the air. More refreshing than her stuffy apartment, anyhow. She had better room to think outdoors.

Her feelings for Rachel were torn. Part of her wanted to spend every second with her as soon as she reached the area. But she knew Rachel was busy, and they had their own separate lives. Part of Quinn wanted to stay away, to protect herself. And part of her wanted to just tear Rachel's clothes off and have a wild, uninhibited evening in bed with her.

She just didn't know how involved to get right now. In her heart, she wanted to give it a try. But her head told her to be careful. She'd been hurt before. She had definitely hurt others. Especially Rachel.

For someone who needed to be in control, Quinn was entirely at a loss to what to do.

She headed back inside the restaurant and took her seat at the bar. A man about her age, whom she recognized from campus, was now sitting down the row from her. He looked up at her from under his dark eyebrows and thick-rimmed glasses, studied her for a second, and smiled.

"Dr. Fabray, right? Theatre?" He had a deep voice, a slight Brooklyn accent. She realized he was on a faculty panel about LGBT rights with her.

"Yes, hi there," she said. "You're… Dr. Verne, right? In the journalism department?"

"Call me Bobby."

"Call me Quinn." They shook hands. Bobby Verne seemed to also be drinking alone: a tall glass of beer was almost empty next to him, and another was waiting for him next to delve in. Quinn had only been there about an hour, and had downed two beers herself.

Bobby looked at his iPhone in his hand and shook his head, abruptly. He tossed the phone on the table and drained the rest of the beer in one gulp. She raised an eyebrow at him, a tactic she had perfected over years in high school. He looked at her and snorted, running a hand through his thick dark hair.

"Men. Right? So fuckin' complicated." Quinn laughed, which seemed to catch him by surprise.

"Actually…no. My problems are focused more on a woman today."

It was Bobby's turn to laugh, too.

"How about that. Well, between the two of us we have plenty to drink beer about." He smiled. "Are you eating anything tonight, Quinn?"

She shrugged. "Thinking about it."

"Split some nachos?"

"Love to, thank you." Bobby hailed the waiter.

"Could we split the chicken nachos appetizer? And I'll get the lady's next drink."

"Bobby, you don't –" she began, but the other professor waved her off.

"Merry fuckin' Christmas, right? You can pay me back sometime down the road. It's nice to have someone buy you a drink, ain't it? " He winked.

He didn't ask anything about Quinn, and Quinn didn't ask anything in return. They just sat, commenting on basketball and school politics, and discussing the lack of funding their departments both had. It was nice to have someone else who just needed to get things off of their mind.

But when her phone rang at 6:00, and she excused herself from Bobby's company, she knew for a fact that her mind would soon be full again.

She stepped back out into the evening light, still unsure of how to act, and answered.

"Hey, Rachel."

"Hi, Quinn. How are you?"

"Oh, you know."

"Yeah."

"Are you home safe?"

"Sure am. I took Puck home first and I'm getting settled in my room for a while. He said hey."

"Well, tell him hello right back. I'm glad you're back. Thanks for letting me know."

"Thank _you _for saying thank you."

Quinn snorted. "Cute, Berry."

"I know, I'm Maybelline cute." Things were all right between them, or so it seemed. "Hey," Rachel continued. "I'm probably setting off for Columbus tomorrow. My dads still have to work, so I might as well check out apartments again before the weekend. And definitely before the holidays."

"Can I see you?" Quinn blurted. She squeezed her eyes shut. _Cool it, Fabray. She's going to think you're obsessed with her_.

But Rachel seemed to have the same thing in mind. "I hope so," she said, and Quinn's heart fluttered. "When do you get off of work?"

Suddenly, work didn't seem all that fun. "Ehhh, I don't really have anything to do…might as well hang out with some out-of-towner."

"_Quinn_."

"What? The students are on break and all my office work is done. I just like to go and hang out to keep busy. And clean stuff or build items."

"They let _you _use power tools?"

"I'm good with my hands, Berry."

Rachel laughed and dropped her voice. "_I know_. Call you tomorrow."

"Hey - !" But Rachel had hung up.

Shaking her head, Quinn returned to her seat. Bobby didn't ask who was on the phone, but she figured her smile was enough of a clue.


	16. Chapter 16

Quinn woke early on Friday. She was definitely excited to see Rachel and help her decide on the best neighborhood to rent an apartment. Actually, she would enjoy any day off she had where she could hang around in downtown Columbus. The shops had their holiday decorations out, and people were in generally good spirits. The weather had been fickle, as usual, but today the high was 50 degrees.

Yes, making the trip downtown was fun. But she was also anxious to see Rachel again. When she had left the bar last night, she exchanged numbers with Bobby.

"I hope everything works out for you, Quinn. And you owe me, so don't be a stranger, okay?" the handsome professor had said.

"You too. Let me know if you need anything," she had replied. And she had met it. She felt like she had a kindred spirit in Bobby – they were both young, single, gay (and mostly in the closet), teaching at a small school in Ohio. He was a nice guy.

She was meeting Rachel at a coffee shop in the Short North before the apartment search began. Quinn lived close to the neighborhood, but she still arrived after Rachel did.

"Damn," she said by way of greeting as she sat across from Rachel. The brunette looked up from her laptop and smiled. A strand of her dark, wavy hair was still covering one eye, and Quinn repressed the urge to brush it back. "How long have you been up?"

"I got up at, like, six today," said Rachel brightly. "Just getting a head start. Good to see you, too, by the way."

"Well, thank you. Let me grab something to drink, okay?" Quinn got up and ordered a black coffee from an overly friendly young woman with a nose ring and a pink fauxhawk. She couldn't help but smile – the girl reminded her of one of her students. Only more chatty.

She sat back down, and Rachel leaned in conspiratorially. "I think she's too young for you," she whispered.

Quinn felt herself flush. "What?" she hissed.

"Come on, she was totally hitting on you." A positively wicked grin was curving onto Rachel's face.

"No, it's because she works at a coffee store and drinks espressos all day."

"That's garbage."

"Fuck you." Rachel snorted and poured some of Quinn's coffee into her own mug.

"Thanks; mine is getting cold."

"How very high school of you, Berry."

"Would you prefer a slushie facial?" At this, Quinn could only roll her eyes. She knew Rachel was just teasing, but it made her a little anxious when she knew people were flirting with her. She had worked so hard to be beautiful, and it gave her the world on a platter. It also got her pregnant and earned her the "head bitch in charge" reputation that caused people like Lauren Zizes to hate her. She understood that she was attractive, but any time someone checked her out, _especially_ a man, it made her stomach turn.

Beauty wasn't fucking everything. Sometimes it was a serious burden.

"So," Rachel said after a moment. "What have you been up to?"

Quinn gave her the full report.

"Stuff, you know," she said casually. Rachel huffed.

"Okay, drink your coffee and wake up already so you can talk like a human!" Quinn obliged and took a big gulp.

"No, serious up," she said. "Things have been slow at school, but there is work to do in costumes and in the set shop. Office work, too, and lesson plans for next semester. That's pretty much it."

_That, and sitting around my apartment trying not to go insane_.

"What's in your office?"

The question caught Quinn off guard. "Huh?"

"What's in your office?"

Quinn shrugged. "A lot of books. Uh…my diploma, a few pictures, some posters of shows I have seen. Trinkets and such…" It was funny. She stared at her office every day but never really thought about what had accumulated there over the last two years.

"Do you listen to music when you work?"

"Well, of course. Don't you?"

Rachel laughed at this. "I get sick of certain things, as you can imagine. But I like whatever is on the radio, and some things from when we were younger."

Something must have come to her mind just then, because her face kind of fell, and she stopped speaking.

"Are you all right?" Quinn asked.

"Yes," Rachel said. "I was…Puck and I were listening to old Glee songs in the car on our way here. It made me kind of miss the old days." She sighed and looked down at her hands. "I know it's weird. Because I got everything I ever wanted, you know? But life was a lot simpler back then. I miss everyone from the club. We really went through a lot together."

Quinn nodded. She understood perfectly. Brittany and Santana had been there for her countless times. Puck, though he had knocked her up, genuinely cared about her as well. They all had cared for her, when her own parents even threw her out.

Puck. As many times as the two of them completely fucked with each other's' minds at McKinley, she definitely missed him now. Things weren't bitter between them, but there was a slight awkwardness when they got together. They had been to see Beth, which was surprisingly fun and non-confrontational, but she didn't really keep up with him after that. Well, if he and Rachel were still such close friends, maybe that Christmas dinner wouldn't be so terrible…she would be awful lonely on Christmas…

She made up her mind right then and there.

"Hey," she said. Rachel looked up. "About Christmas…"

Rachel's tone brightened a little. "Yeah?"

Quinn smiled at her. "I'll go." Rachel grinned at her.

"Puck will be excited, I know it. Thank you."

"Well, you don't need to _thank_ me…" The way Rachel was smiling at her made her feel like she had just won them the lottery. Clearly, the other woman was pretty excited for this. Quinn had to admit that she was kind of excited, as well, but also nervous to meet the Berrys and see Mrs. Puckerman again.

Still, feeling wanted was a nice thing. And it looked like Rachel really wanted her there. She'd try it out for a bit, and leave if it got uncomfortable…

Rachel shook her head, as if to clear it, and clapped her hands together. "SO. Apartments. Yes? Shall we to business?"

Quinn drained the coffee. "Yes, sir."

"What do you listen to?"

"What?" She was not awake enough for Rachel's interrogation.

"In your office. What kind of music?"

"Lighter things. Older folk, country. Some stuff from the 70s and 80s."

"What's your favorite song right now?"

Quinn shook her head. "What is this –" But Rachel just waved a hand at her. "Well…right now, it's a Miranda Lambert song. Off her first album. It's called 'Love is Lookin' for You.'"

Rachel nodded, then held the door open for Quinn as they stepped into the street.

"Come on, Dr. Q!"

This was almost the Rachel she remembered from their last days in high school. Quirky, funny, a little bit sarcastic – and, above all, optimistic about the future. But there was definitely a tinge of something else there, of maturity, responsibility and maybe even some sadness. Quinn had noticed it once or twice, but Rachel seemed to be happy and healthy.

As for herself? Well, a lot had changed in ten years. Right now, she was satisfied most of the time. But she did get lonely and down sometimes. She had gone through a lot as a younger woman, and pushed herself through eight years of college before settling down at a modestly-paying job that could take up as many as 70 hours a week. And though she was busy, she was still restless. There was something missing in Quinn's life, something she felt very deeply sometimes. But she wasn't sure what it was.

They climbed in Rachel's rental, which was packed full of everything but Puck's luggage and the cats – "They're with my dads, of course, Quinn. They can't live in a car! – and drove off in search of Rachel's temporary home.

As they jumped from place to place, shaking hands with realtor after realtor, Quinn pointed out some of her favorite spots. Rachel still seemed to be soaking the new city all in.

They visited Rachel's top picks for several hours. Quinn watched with mild amusement as Rachel grilled the realtors about everything. Was it pet-friendly? What were the other tenants like? Would she pay her own utilities? What if something broke? Was it safe to park on the street? Should she buy a separate security system?

Now that Rachel had her picks narrowed down, she could afford to be picky. One apartment, which Quinn thought had a nice view, "didn't have enough character." At another, while Quinn was admiring the spacious kitchen, Rachel was concerned about "the old infrastructure leading to high heating bills."

Then, at nearly the end of the list, Rachel found one.

It was an apartment building right in the Short North, and it fulfilled Rachel's every request. The floors were hardwood, so she wouldn't have to sweep up cat hair as frequently. The apartment was on the third floor, and was a loft, with beautiful high ceilings and tall windows. Rachel, in her own words, didn't have to worry about being robbed as much – "but I could still jump out the window if I had to." And the view of the outside garden was beautiful. The neighbors were artsy types who kept to themselves, so Rachel's weird sleeping habits while she was filming wouldn't be disrupted.

The elderly landlord was rattling off all the amenities he could. The low heating costs, the recycling program, the community events, the workout room…Quinn could see that Rachel was loving the place more and more with every minute.

"Tomorrow, then?" She asked him.

"What? Yes! Tomorrow. Let me get the lease papers." And he shuffled off.

Quinn stood, mesmerized by Rachel's burst of energy, as she darted around the rooms.

"And my music collection can go here…this is a good place for a desk and my laptop…ooh, this is a great counter for when I have time to cook." She flicked on the lights in the bathroom. "Wow, this is a huge tub! And the cats' stuff can go in here…"

Quinn leaned against the counter as the brunette talked and talked. It was a nice place, and it seemed like Rachel would enjoy her time here.

She couldn't help thinking, just for a quick moment, of waking up in the morning and looking through these windows as Rachel was making coffee.

But she shook it out of her head just as quickly.

The landlord returned with the papers, and Quinn watched with a hint of jealousy as Rachel whipped out her checkbook and handed over about $2,000 for a security deposit, utility startup fees, parking permit, and the first month's rent.

Her own apartment paled in comparison. Sure, it was fine for her, but it was nowhere near as spacious. She felt embarrassed. Her rich, beautiful Broadway star friend was buying an apartment to live in while she shot a damn movie. Like Columbus was some quaint little backwards tourist town. And at night, Rachel would go home to her loft apartment and her millions and Quinn would go home to her little closet of a living space and eat something from the microwave.

Rachel was back in her life, but not for Quinn. She was here for her career. Which, of course, Quinn couldn't blame her. They hadn't been friends for a while, simply because Quinn was a bitch to her in high school, and Rachel was busy, and who could blame her for not keeping in touch? And now, though Rachel may have some sexual attraction to her, she was probably just using her as a tour guide.

Quinn knew she was overthinking things, but she couldn't help it. Sometimes she just liked to get herself in a bad mood and then start the day over again later. It helped to think the worst, right? If she was always ready for people to fuck her over, she wouldn't get hurt as badly.

Rachel tapped her on the shoulder, still grinning away.

"Quinn! Hey! I'm kind of hungry…do you want to go get a bite? My treat since you came with me for all of this."

Quinn put a smile on and nodded. "Sure, but I can get it. It's no big."

"Don't be crazy. I owe you." Rachel headed for the door. "Come on!"

Quinn couldn't help but smile a little, though she was still brooding.

_Maybe I'm being too self-pitying. It's Rachel. She's pretty easy to read, and I think she really wants to be friends. I don't think she looks down on me._

_But if she's going to drop me and leave me, I may as well be prepared._


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, everyone! I just looked through my stats and there are almost 2,000 different people out there who have clicked over to this story. DAMN. Thank you all so much. It's so encouraging to have people reading this! Please continue letting me know what to think.

Also, feel free to follow me on your favorite social networking sites that begin with the letter "T." My initials are "MKRJ" so that would be a good start to finding me. ;)

It's finally getting cute, guys!

Through lunch, and then while they began unloading Rachel's car, Quinn remained kind of sulky. Rachel didn't seem to notice much, as she was on a high from the excitement of moving in.

Quinn couldn't help but feel a little jealous as she helped Rachel move garment bags of pretty dresses and cute shoes, and signed posters from fellow Broadway stars, and pictures with other celebrities. It was like it was high school, and the roles were reversed. Quinn wasn't the pretty, popular one anymore, and Rachel was. She felt stupid for feeling so jealous and left-out, but at the same time she wondered if this was how she made Rachel feel all through high school. Like Quinn had been better than Rachel because of her clothes, her friends, etc.

She wasn't sure, but she had a sinking feeling this was how Rachel had felt.

It made her feel even a little bit worse that she made the other girl go through such a self-esteem crusher for several years.

"What are you doing the rest of the day?" Rachel asked as they pushed a heavy box of books into the elevator.

Quinn shrugged. "I honestly have no clue."

Rachel nodded and pushed the third floor button. "Me either. This shouldn't take too much longer. You're welcome to hang out here but I don't have anything too exciting to do."

The elevator opened and they shoved the box down to Rachel's door and inside.

"Phew." Rachel wiped a mild sheen of sweat off of her forehead. "This has to be good for us, right?" She smiled at Quinn as they headed back down. "Hey, anything exciting around your place?"

Quinn shrugged again. "I don't have too many people come by so I don't really have anything too entertaining."

"Lies. I bet you have all sorts of exciting things. Treasures untold!"

"Nah."

"Aw come on." They were in the elevator again. "I want to see where the great Dr. Quinn Fabray lives."

"Not much great about it."

"I'm sure it's lovely. You're just being modest."

"Nothing compared to a third-floor loft or a place in the middle of New York, that's for sure."

"Well, I don't give a damn about that." She gave Quinn a funny look. "I hope you don't think I'm _that _much of a materialist still."

"No..."

"Well, good."

"I just feel like you have better things to do than hang out with me."

"Like what? Sit around here and unpack my things? Go back to Lima and sit around my parents' house?"

"I dunno," Quinn said roughly, "Why would _you_ want to pal around Columbus with _me_? I feel like Broadway stars don't kick it with old high school friends on Saturday nights."

"Well, this one wants to," Rachel said sharply. "Unless you think I'm just doing it because I pity you or something, or because this is some _tourist trip_ for me and you're the local attraction."

She pulled open the door of the rental car hard once they were outside, and slammed it a little excessively when they had retrieved more boxes. They rode back up the elevator in silence.

Quinn was starting to feel kind of shitty for lashing out. She definitely didn't mean to take her solo pity trip out on Rachel. But she still didn't see _why _Rachel would want to spend so much time with her.

The last of the boxes was pushed to the side of Rachel's living room, and the brunette sat on it with a sigh and looked out the window.

Quinn stood, feeling awkward, in the kitchen. She was unsure of what to say. She didn't want Rachel mad at her but she wanted the other woman to understand how _hard_ it was for Quinn to grasp why she was a priority in Rachel's life right now.

"Hey," she said, walking over to Rachel and kneeling next to her. "I'm sorry. I'm kind of in a funk right now and I took it out on you. I didn't mean to."

Rachel shook her head, still staring out the window. "I'm sorry too, I guess. I don't know how I made you think I was looking down on you, but I'm not, Quinn. I miss having friends who know me as just _Rachel_, who aren't my friends because I owe them something or they owe me something. I miss hanging out with people who aren't tainted by fame and fortune. I know I have everything, but sometimes it's not enough."

She looked over at Quinn, her eyes misting. "I miss _you_, above all. I have for ten years but I kept it locked away. Seeing you again last month just opened all the floodgates. So, yes. Of _course_ I want to spend time with you, and see where you live, and have you with me when I make decisions. You're a part of my life, no matter how distant. And I want that part to be with me as much as possible now that it's back."

"Rachel…"

"Of everyone I know, it's hard to know who loves me for just me. Of course my dads do. And I think Puck knows I'm still the same person after all the bright lights and the interviews. I just hoped that if we ever met again, you would remember me as a friend…not some distant celebrity or a totally different person."

"Rachel." Quinn's eyes were misting over, too. She put her hands over Rachel's. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

"But if you felt it, why not?"

"I don't know _what_ I feel," Quinn admitted. "I think what you heard was fear. Rachel, I'm happy you're here. But I know you're going to be busy with the movie in a few months. I don't want to get my hopes up that we can see each other all the time, because I know it's not true. And I know one day you're going to be done here, and move back to New York."

"Quinn, I don't _know_ where I'll be in a few months," Rachel said angrily. "I don't know what the future holds yet. I don't even know what I'm looking for. Or what I'm meant to be doing. So don't count me out because you've got a track record of being let down and you're scared of being alone."

Quinn glared at her. "You know you don't belong here long-term. And I can't…_fuck_, I don't want to get my hopes up that we'll be together in the long run. We both know it can't happen."

She had voiced it, what had been eating at her. In her heart, she was hoping for something long-term. But in all the twists and turns that her mind made up, she was making herself believe it was impossible.  
>Rachel slid off the box to join Quinn in kneeling on the floor. Her brown eyes were fierce as she looked Quinn straight in the face, barely an inch from touching her.<p>

"Then you better start proving both of us wrong," she said. She leaned forward, brushed a tear off of Quinn's cheek, and kissed her softly. Quinn returned the kiss, sliding her hands through Rachel's hair as she parted her lips, hungry for more.

But Rachel gently pulled away.

"Not right now, okay? We're both upset and I don't want to start anything. It wouldn't feel right."

She was right.

"I'm sorry." Quinn said again. "Sometimes I just like to mindfuck myself."

"I understand," Rachel said. "Let's not think about it right now. Please. I don't want to fight, because there's nothing to fight about anyway, right?"

Quinn nodded, still feeling like an idiot.

"Come on," Rachel said. "Let's leave unpacking for tomorrow, okay?"

Quinn sighed. "All right."

Rachel grinned at her suddenly. "Let's do something. Take me out."

"What?"

"You heard me. Take me out. Somewhere fun. Let's do something spontaneous. We both need to stop thinking and just enjoy each other's company tonight. I want to be with you as much as possible."

"…What?"

"Quinn, here I am, a pretty young woman, asking you to take me out. You don't keep pretty young women in suspense."

Quinn racked her brains for a second. This sudden change in emotions was confusing, and it took her a second to change her line of thinking from _Rachel's mad at me _to _I think Rachel wants me to take her on a date, what the fuck do I do. _A movie sounded too lame, and they had been out to eat several times. She wanted to do something impressive, something fun that they could enjoy…

Then, all of a sudden, she had it.

"I think I have an idea."

Forty-five minutes later, the two had bundled up in some warm winter clothes and were in Quinn's little Yaris, on their way to the mysterious destination. Though Rachel was rather short, Quinn had found a sweatshirt that fit to put on over her long-sleeved polo, and borrowed a hat.

"But it's not that cold right now!" Rachel had said when Quinn suggested what to wear.  
>Quinn had smiled. "It will be later. Trust me."<p>

While they were in the car, Rachel kept asking Quinn where they were going.

"We'll be there soon," Quinn said. "You'll see it before we get there."

When they were near their destination, Quinn nudged Rachel. "See? I told you."

Rachel's eyes were wide as she took in the spectacle. Thousands upon thousands of brightly colored lights could be seen from the side of the road, winding across bushes and up lamp posts. Some were in the shape of animals or holiday items, but most of the lights were just strung up everywhere, twinkling at passersby.

Quinn was smiling as they pulled into the parking lot of the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium. The entrance sign was advertising Wildlights, their annual holiday lights spectacular. There were quite a few other cars there, so they circled the lot for a minute before stopping the car.

Quinn put it in park and yanked up the emergency brake. "You ready?"

Rachel was beaming. "This is awesome, Quinn. I love it already."

"I thought you would."

Rachel climbed out of the car. It was still early in the evening, but there were still quite a few people there. The brunette hesitated for a minute.

"Do you think anyone will recognize me? Crowds get kind of nervewracking when the people all know someone famous is in the area…"

Quinn cocked her head and looked the shorter woman over. With a hat and scarf on, plus extra padding to keep warm, Rachel would probably blend right in.

"I think the clothes hide you. Plus, it's dark, and all these people are just here to see the lights." She smiled. "I think you'll be all right. Come on!"

They joined a crowd of families and young couples who were heading to the main gate. Quinn couldn't help but smile as a young boy about knocked them over in his rush to pull his dad to the ticket booth.  
>"Sorry!" the dad called sheepishly as the boy kept pulling him. Quinn and Rachel both waved it off and watched as the boy nearly bowled over an elderly couple.<p>

Quinn pulled out her debit card to get the tickets. Rachel was staring at a light display of dancing reindeer as Quinn paid, and thus found herself being steered through the entrance gate.

"Come on, you," Quinn said. "There's a whole lot to see!"

"You come here a lot?"

"Yeah, it's one of the things I think is okay to splurge on," Quinn replied. "They've got some nice exhibits. I like just coming here and watching all the animals. Plus, this lights show is awesome." She pointed over to the man-made lake that sat in the middle of the main area. "See those lights that are positioned on the lake? They play music every few minutes and the lights kind of dance with the music."

"I want to watch!" Rachel said, so they found a spot on the rail and waited for the lights.

"We Wish You a Merry Christmas" began playing shortly after that, and the lake became a rainbow of reflected colors. Trees wrapped in purple, orange and green flashed with the music, and cute pink flamingos bobbed their little heads. A Christmas tree made out of the lights was dancing, too, right next to some smiling snowmen. Yes, it was a little kitschy, but Quinn couldn't help but feel happy as the music played on.

The young kids around them were enjoying the show immensely, and so was Rachel. Quinn noticed her tapping her foot with the beat, and could swear she heard humming next to her.

When the show was over, Rachel beamed at Quinn. "That was awesome. I haven't been to anything like this in years. Do they have cats?"

Quinn laughed. "I'm sure the lions and tigers are inside because it gets kind of chilly. But maybe the bobcats are out. We can go see the manatees and the fish; they're all indoors, after all. Or the bats. Or the lemurs. Or the bugs."

"Fuck bugs," said Rachel. "I want to see penguins and polar bears. I see bugs all the time."

"Okay, let's go find penguins and polar bears then, Your Highness."

Rachel's enthusiasm was infectious, and Quinn felt at ease as they walked around. Rachel spent a good twenty minutes taking pictures of the penguins, and was only slightly disgusted when Quinn took her through the exhibit where people could touch crabs and starfish.

It was getting chilly outside, but they spent enough time at the indoor exhibits that the cold was bearable. And the lights stretched as far as the eye could see, painting a beautiful picture for their December night together.

After a few hours, though, the cold started seeping in. They had hit all the open exhibits, and Quinn's feet were starting to hurt.

"Shall we head back to the car?" Quinn asked as they left the "Shores" exhibit and all the marine life.  
>Rachel nodded. "Yes please. I'm chilly."<p>

Quinn knew that the question was going to come up – would Rachel want to spend the rest of the night together, or go home? It wasn't even nine yet, so she could theoretically make it back to Lima before it was too late.

Quinn didn't really want to say goodbye. She felt like they hadn't spent enough time together yet. And she knew that she might be pushing it – well, whatever "I just want to be friends right now" boundaries they wanted to keep up, she didn't want to risk anything. Because with Rachel Berry at her apartment, cold and in need of being warmed up…_well_.

Rachel did say how she wanted to spend time with her, though, right? And maybe Quinn should stop worrying about the future and just focus on _now_. It was hard for her to tell herself this, but she would try.

"Hey," she said. "You cold?"

Rachel nodded, sidling up closer to Quinn as they walked. "Yeah, I am."

Quinn hesitated, and then slipped an arm around the brunette. She felt her own heartbeat quicken as Rachel rested her head on her shoulder.

"I've got hot chocolate and tea at my apartment. We can play a board game or something?"

Rachel nestled her head further into Quinn's neck. "Okay. I'd like that. I'm kind of tired, too…maybe I'll just stay in Columbus for the night…"

Whether it was at Quinn's house or her own, having Rachel stay another night sounded like a wonderful idea.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: This may be the last chapter in Quinn's POV for a bit, but I hope the trip into her brain has not been too strenuous. ;) I put the lyrics in for "Love is Lookin' for You" at the end. I really think the song applies to both of them, and can be a great metaphor for their relationship. Please look it up, give it a listen! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.

-Raggy

Rachel was stretched out on Quinn's couch, flipping through Netflix, as the blonde was in the kitchen heating up some water.

"Tea or hot chocolate?" she called in to her living room.

"I think tea…"

"Sure thing." Quinn had also found a bag of popcorn in her pantry and was waiting for it to come alive in the microwave. She poured a hot chocolate for herself and a tea for Rachel, staring down the popcorn as it circled slowly.

Quinn's apartment was actually the bottom floor of a house. The property owners had made several houses into an upstairs and downstairs apartment, mostly for college kids, but Quinn liked being in close quarters to Ohio State (though not close enough to catch the weekend party noises). She only had five rooms, but it wasn't like a single woman on a professor's salary needed too much more than a kitchen, living room, bathroom, bedroom and study/storage room.

She was still kind of embarrassed, because the outside of the house looked a little beat-down and some of the paint was peeling inside. But Rachel didn't seem to mind at all. Quinn was very glad she splurged on Netflix every month, because there weren't many local channels that came in through the old antennae on the top of her television…and aside from watching TV, there really wasn't anything to _do_.

The popcorn went into a big pink bowl, and Quinn grabbed the two cups of hot liquid carefully by their handles as she put the popcorn under one arm. Rachel sat up with a smile as Quinn entered the room.

"Wow. Thank you, Quinn!"

The taller woman smiled and handed over tea and popcorn. She sat on the floor in front of Rachel, trying not to give herself over to temptation too quickly. The brunette had selected "America's Funniest Home Videos" as their show of choice.

"All those great musicals, and you choose this?" Quinn looked up at her. "I know 'The Producers' and "Moulin Rouge' are probably on there…and the newest version of 'Les Misérables.'"

At this, Rachel's peaceful expression turned dark.

"_Fuck_ no," she spat. "Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to watch that movie?"

Quinn was shocked. "No…I'm sorry, I had…"

"Do you know I auditioned for that movie?" Rachel's voice was reaching fever pitch. "And have you _seen_ it? Do you _know_ who they cast as Éponine Thénardier, my dream role?"

"N-no.."

"_TAYLOR FUCKING SWIFT_." Rachel looked so angry, and so funny, that Quinn couldn't help quirk a smile. "It's not funny!" Rachel said, though the corners of her mouth were turning up. "She had never been in anything remotely close to the emotional level of 'Les Miz' when she got the role. And true, I was just going in to college, but I have been in so many plays… UGH! That woman!"

"Hey, hey," Quinn put up her arms in surrender. "I'm not a big fan, either. I'll never mention it again."

Rachel put her hand to her forehead and pretended to faint. Quinn seized a piece of popcorn and threw it at her head. Rachel snatched it and popped it into her mouth, then opened her jaws in expectation of another.

"Hell no, Éponine. You get crumbs tonight." Quinn pulled the bowl away, but not before Rachel snatched another piece.

"I've got to have things in twos!" she complained as the popcorn disappeared into her mouth.

"Huh?"

Rachel shrugged. "Ever since I was little, I've eaten things in even numbers. It's weird but it drives me crazy if I'm, like, eating carrot sticks or something and there's one left. I can't eat it. My mouth feels uneven."

"What do you do with the food if there is only an odd number of things left?"

"Toss it or something."

"Unbelievable."

"What? It's not with _ev_erything…just small items, like carrot sticks or candy or chips or grapes…"

"Or popcorn?" Quinn waved the bowl in front of her, and Rachel made a face.

"Yes, or popcorn. Come on, I'm kind of hungry!" Quinn laughed and passed the bowl back to her, and watched in slight fascination as Rachel ate, two or four pieces at a time.

"AFV" was full of the usuals – men getting hit in the penis, cats falling over, people tripping at weddings. Still, it was always funny, and Rachel's giggles were infectious. The episode ended, and Quinn turned to glance at the brunette.

"I'm glad you stayed," she said simply.

Rachel smiled. Her eyes were drooping. "Me too…" She lazily put a piece of popcorn in her mouth. Quinn took this opportunity to steal the bowl, and stood up quickly.

"Ha!" she said triumphantly. "Odd number, right?"

Rachel's eyes were wide. "Nooooo! I neeed iiiit! Pleeease!" She sat up and waved her arms at Quinn, and then began pouting as Quinn held the bowl as high as possible and jumping to increase her height advantage.

"Pleeeease," Rachel continued, sliding off the couch to lie face-first on the floor. "I'm going to diiiieeeee!" She kicked her feet and lay still for a moment. Quinn nudged her with her foot.

"Come on, no sleeping. That can't be comfy, anyhow." She knelt down and attempted to push Rachel over. At this, Rachel shoved her and grabbed the bowl. Quinn yelped and fell on her ass as Rachel triumphantly ate more popcorn.

"Don't mess with Rachel Berry, bitches," the brunette said. Quinn lay back with a sigh.

"Oh, you win." Rachel scooted up so her body was even with Quinn's and put her head on the blonde's chest.

"Your heart is going kind of fast," she said. "Did my athletic ability scare you?"

Quinn snorted. "Try again." She felt Rachel shrug.

"Nah, too sleepy." Quinn tilted her chin to look down at her. Rachel looked so cute, lying there all content. But it was getting late, and there was no way Quinn was going to let her drive _anywhere_ if she was sleepy. And the longer Rachel stayed, the more tired she would be. Quinn didn't want to risk it.

"I know it's like a ten minute drive but if you're that sleepy you should head back to your new place…I don't want you to drive while you're tired."

"Rachel Berry is never tired."

"Uh-huh." Quinn gently pushed the wavy brown hair off of her shoulder and tried to detach Rachel. "Come on…Rachel, please, you've had a long day."

"Mmhmmm…"

"You really should get home, okay? I can see you tomorrow before you go to Lima or something, and then I'll see you at Christmas."

Rachel just nodded and snuggled closer. Quinn sighed. As much as she would _like_ Rachel to stay, she didn't know if it was a good idea. There was something that screamed _commitment_ about letting someone stay over in your bed. And she didn't know how ready either of them were for that. So, she nudged the sleepy actress again.

"Rach. Come on."

"Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Can I just stay here with you? Please?"

It was a good thing that Rachel's head was now on the floor, because Quinn's heart began racing so fast, she was almost possible the brunette could hear it anyway. It wasn't because a beautiful girl wanted to be in her bed for the first time in a long time – no, Rachel was about to doze off and if Quinn were to propose anything sexual it wouldn't be fair. It was because of the way Rachel was now looking up at her, with her brown eyes shaded by sleepiness. There was affection there, and admiration, and Quinn felt an urge to pick Rachel up and just carry her to bed because she looked so vulnerable and damn _cute_ all curled up on the floor.

_That_ wasn't something she had felt in a long time. That someone kind of needed her, even if just for a sleepy and vulnerable moment.

Quinn stood and reached her hands down, pulling Rachel to her feet. "Come on, let's find you pajamas okay? I have an unopened toothbrush you can use." She led Rachel to the bathroom and found her a toothbrush, then returned to her bedroom and found a spare t-shirt and sweats. "I'll meet you in my room, okay?" She said as she set the clothes on the bathroom sink. She then proceeded to shove all her dirty laundry in the hamper and make the bed before putting on her own pajamas.

Rachel appeared in the doorway, in an Ohio Wesleyan t-shirt and sweatpants. Quinn winked at her.

"Red and black. Suits you, right? Just like that song from your favorite Taylor Swift musical."

Rachel just shook her head and set her own clothes on Quinn's dresser.

"Okay," Quinn said. "You can sleep in here and I'll take the couch. I usually keep the heat down when I sleep so I have a lot of blankets here… sometimes the house creaks, but don't worry. I locked up and no one lives upstairs right now."

"Quinn," Rachel interrupted, "Please don't feel like you have to sleep on your couch. I'm shorter, I can sleep there."

"No, I want you to be comfortable. You're a guest, okay? I've slept there before."

"Then just stay here with me…please?"

Rachel was testing her willpower, but the opportunity to snuggle all night was really winning over Quinn's desire to be chivalrous and give the lady her personal space. And in five minutes, her hesitations had kind of been bulldozed by a sleepy brunette's desire for closeness. Rachel walked over and pulled the blankets down, patting the mattress.

"Please, Quinn?"

It had been a long time since she had done this. Quinn Fabray had never considered herself a cuddler. With one night stands, of course, she didn't really feel any connection to the girls she slept with and didn't really want to hang around and _cuddle_ after sex.

But with Rachel Berry, there had _always_ been a connection. That evening in the hotel wasn't a one night stand. She had admitted to herself a while ago that she wanted something more than that. But was that _something more_ starting right here and now?

"Quinn?" Rachel asked. "Please?"

Again, that feeling of Rachel _need_ing her struck, and she caved.

"…of course." She crossed to turn off the light and slid into bed next to Rachel. Though there was plenty of room (it was a queen bed, after all) the brunette shifted next to her immediately and curled up. Her hair brushed Quinn's bare arm as she kissed her on her elbow.

"Rachel, your feet are _freezing_." Quinn gritted her teeth as little feet brushed her leg.

"Sorry…cold feet, warm heart. I was born this way." Rachel moved her feet, and threw an arm across Quinn's chest.

"Okay, Gaga. Sleep tight, okay?" There was a moment of silence, then Rachel sat up abruptly.

"Quinn?"

"Yes? What's wrong?"

"I usually…I usually listen to music when I sleep…"

"I can put something on, okay? My iPod is in my kitchen…"

"Well…can you sing to me? Please?"

Quinn blinked for a while, staring at the ceiling. If cuddling was not a Quinn Fabray activity, singing someone to sleep was _certainly_ not on the list.

But something about how she felt about Rachel told her that all of her relationship rules were going right merrily out the fucking window.

"…Rachel, I haven't really sang since I was an undergrad..."

"I don't care, I like when you sing and I haven't heard it in ten years so _I win_."

"Okay, okay! What should I sing?" Quinn was slightly nervous now, to be _singing in _bed for a sleepy Broadway actress. She supposed that tired, grumpy Rachel may bite her head off if she refused, but even worse, what if she sucked and Rachel had nightmares?

"Sing that favorite song of yours from Miranda Lambert."

"Oh…uh…" Rachel nudged her with her nose, and Quinn cleared her throat. "Okay, I'll sing it." She was a bit nervous to sing this song, the song that had kind of always reminded her of Rachel. The reason it was her current favorite was that it reminded her of them both, actually – both had experienced so many hardships in life and in love. And she hoped they would be the right ones for each other, to treat each other right finally, now they were adults.

But right now wasn't the time to mention how metaphorical she found the song quite yet. Maybe some other moment they shared together…

She began to sing, stroking Rachel's hair as she did:

_Maybe you're just jaded from some nobody's unforgotten words.  
>Maybe you're just faded, a little gray from every time that you've been hurt.<br>So you're lookin' for your skin that you never did fit in.  
>You can't hide when you're turned inside out:<br>Love is lookin' for you now._

_Maybe you been burnin', but you can't blow out a flame that you can't find.  
>Maybe you've been thirsty, but the rain just ain't enough when you're this dry.<br>So you're runnin' from the water, and the fire's getting hotter.  
>I think you better find some level ground:<br>Love is lookin' for you now  
>Love is lookin' for you now.<em>

_Maybe you been wearing the shoes that someone else is wearing now.  
>Maybe you've been swearing, forever might have already run out.<br>You can't love yourself at the expense of someone else:  
>You can't hide a liar from the truth:<br>Love is lookin' for you_

Rachel's eyes were closed now, and her breathing was even. Quinn closed her eyes, too, and softly sang the last few lines, the ones that reminded her most of Rachel, that reminded her most of what she was afraid to say.

_**Love is lookin' for you,  
>I've been looking for you.<strong>__  
>Baby I've been lookin'...<br>I've been looking for you._


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: "Love is lookin' for you, I've been lookin' for you." Yep, I think these lyrics are perfect for these two. And so does Quinn, ain't she cute? Thanks for keeping up with me.

-Raggy

As was her usual routine, Rachel was up early the next morning. She smiled as she looked next to her and saw Quinn's hair all in her face, remembering their spectacular evening in bed together at the hotel and how cute Quinn had looked the morning after.

This had been a little more dignified, though Rachel was sure her sleepy begging might have gotten annoying. What could she do about it? When she was tired, she was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

And sleeping next to Quinn again had felt good. More than good, it felt calming and secure and cute and confusing all at the same time.

She needed coffee.

Rachel leaned over and kissed Quinn on what was probably her forehead, then quietly slipped out of the covers. She tiptoed back into the living room, and, with some hesitation, put Quinn's boots on as a finishing touch to her "I'm so college" outfit. She put on her own coat – because peacoats totally match sweatpants, right? She wrote _I'll be right back_ on a piece of paper and set it in front of the television, then slipped out of the house and hopped into her car.

There was a Starbucks down the road, so she picked up two coffees and a granola bar and then headed back to Quinn's.

As she pulled up next to Quinn's car, she saw a dark shape on the front stoop. With breakfast in hand, she cautiously made her way to the door.

To her utter surprise, a little tortoiseshell kitten was sitting there. It meowed and trotted over to greet her as soon as it saw her. Rachel about dropped the coffee.

"Oh my _God_, who are you?" she cooed as she scooped it up. The kitten was scrawny, and she could feel its little ribs, but it purred and purred as she scratched its little chin. "You're adorable," she told it, lifting it up to see its gender. "And you're a little boy! Well, I'll be damned. Aren't most tortie cats girls?" she cooed at him, and he nuzzled her with his head. "We need to find you a home…but first, something to eat, okay?" She set him down and opened the door to Quinn's. "I'll be right back, sweetie, okay?"

The kitten meowed as Rachel moved swiftly into Quinn's kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn't much, and she knew cats didn't really do well with milk, so she dug through the pantry until she found a can of chicken soup. She dumped it in a bowl, microwaved it, and then ran it back outside.

The kitten was still there, meowing, and immediately rubbed himself all over Rachel's legs as he saw her. To her great delight, he ate the proffered soup with great enthusiasm, purring loudly the whole time.

"You break my heart," she told him. "You're so cute. Wait here, okay?"

She was so excited that he liked her and he liked the soup. _Quinn would love him_.

"Quinn!" she called as she ran back inside. "Quinn!" Depositing the boots at the door, she raced to the bedroom and climbed back into bed. "Quinn, quick, come with me. You've got to see."

"What…?" Hazel eyes blearily opened and stared at her. "Rachel, it feels like it's before eight. Please don't tell me it's before eight."

"Quinn _hurry_, you are going to miss him!"

"Miss _who_? What the hell?" But her questions were futile, and Rachel already had pushed her halfway off of the bed. Swearing under her breath, the blonde got up and followed Rachel to the door.

"Hell no I am going out there barefoot!"

"_Quinnnnnn!"_ Rachel was bouncing up and down at this point. "Come on come on!"

"Jesus, Berry!" Rachel swung open the door and pointed to the kitten, who was still devouring the soup.

"Quinn, _look_, just look at him, he's so precious!" She turned and looked at the blonde, who no longer looked grumpy or tired and was looking at the little tortie kitten with wide-eyed affection.

"Is he nice? And is he…eating out of my bowls?"

"He was _hungry_, Quinn, and he is so sweet. Look." And she opened the door, scooped him up, and brought him inside in his arms.

"Rachel, _careful_, he may have fleas!"

"But LOOK!" She smiled as Quinn visibly struggled with herself, finally giving up and scratching the little guy's head. He was purring, and Rachel pressed his little cold body into Quinn's arms.

"Shit, he's freezing," said the blonde woman. "I wonder how old he is, and how long he's been outside?"

"He's probably been outside his whole life," Rachel mused. "But someone has to have been feeding his mother, right?"

"I dunno…" The kitten was asleep, purring, in Quinn's arms, now. Rachel's mind was racing. _He needs a collar, and his shots, and flea medicine…but first he needs to warm up, and he needs a litterbox…_

"Rachel," Quinn said, "What are we going to do with him? I can't just leave him…"

Rachel already had a plan for this, of course. "Well," she began tentatively, "can't he stay here for a little while?"

Quinn sighed. "I was afraid you would say that, Rachel, but I don't think I can… I don't know where I would keep him, or how much time I would have to play with him. Can't you keep him?"

"No, I can only have two pets at my apartment and I couldn't possibly get rid of either of mine. Quinn…I think he'd be good for you."

As if on cue, the kitten snuggled his head into the crook of Quinn's arm.

"Quinn, he needs someone," Rachel continued. "And he likes you."

The blonde looked up. "Let's get him warmed up, okay? And I need some coffee before I do any heavy thinking about keeping this furball." They sat at the kitchen table after Quinn fetched a towel from the bathroom and set the tiny cat down. He continued sleeping as Rachel ate her granola bars and Quinn made some toast.

"Hey, I'll go get him some things, okay?" Rachel felt wide awake and was really worried about the little guy. "Litter…and food…and…uh, a scratching post?"

Quinn looked hesitant as she nodded, still staring at the little lump of fur on the table. "Hey," Rachel said. The other looked up. Rachel leaned down and kissed her nose. "Thanks. I couldn't leave him outside. He's just a baby, after all, and anything with four legs kind of breaks my heart unless it is happy and whole."

She was pretty sure there was a smile there under the heavy eyes and the muttering, so she left and headed to her car. Her BlackBerry told her there was a store close, so she directed herself there and quickly gathered some cat things.

"You bought the whole store?" Quinn asked as Rachel returned with her arms full.

"Just the necessities." She dumped it on the table next to the still-sleeping kitten. "Where should I put the litter box?

"Hm…I guess in the bathroom for now." Quinn followed Rachel, watching with a bemused smile on her face. "There's something wildly ironic to be said here about lesbians and cats."

Rachel snorted as she dumped Tidy Cats into the litter pan. "Don't you even. You know I have two of them!"

"Exactly my point," Quinn said, winking as she turned around. "Let's get the little…_hey!_ What do you think you're doing?" Rachel looked in time to see the kitten take the loaf of bread from the counter, where Quinn had left it, and run off, dragging it backwards as he made a desperate escape with a prize that was easily twice his size.

It took them a full five minutes to catch him and coax him out from under the couch. By that time, he had chewed his way through the bag and was munching a piece of bread. He growled as they tried to take it from him. So Quinn sighed and tore up the pieces for him to eat, and he immediately devoured them. She laughed and turned to Rachel.

"As per our discussion of 'Les Miz' last night, I think I found our bread thief the perfect name."

"What?"

"Jean Valjean, of course."

It was such a perfect name, such a _Broadway_ name, that Rachel had to love it. Jean Valjean was the hero of "Les Misérables," and he was put into prison for stealing a loaf of bread before the play began. The opening scenes focused on his release and parole. And, now, they had found their own little bread thief on the streets and given him a new chance for life.

"You hear that, Jean?" Rachel crouched down to scratch the little black and orange head. "You were named after a French criminal. Isn't that fitting, you think? Now here, stop eating and come see your litterbox." She took him to the bathroom and rubbed his feet in the litter so he knew where to go, just as she had with her own cats.

Abruptly, she wondered how Ian and Gloria were doing. She took a picture of Jean as he cleaned himself and sent it to her fathers.

_I love Columbus! Free kitties! Be home later today to help decorate._ The message read, and she smiled as she thought of the four loves of her life. Her dads loved having the two cats around. They jokingly called them "our grandchildren" and insisted on buying them new collars every holiday.

Jean was now crawling onto a pile of Quinn's clothes, and Rachel watched as he curled up and closed his eyes, still purring. She smiled as she watched his little back rise and fall.

She stood up and turned. Quinn was leaning in the doorway, watching the both of them. "Isn't he cute?" Rachel asked, standing up.

"You're a sap," Quinn replied. "You do know I haven't agreed to keeping that little fuzz ball, right?"

Rachel huffed, stepped forward, and aimed her foot at the taller woman's shin. Quinn dodged it, laughing. So, Rachel was just forced to show off her middle finger and call the blonde a bitch.

"You're _also_ cute when I make you mad," Quinn said, and Rachel went from indignant to blushing in about two seconds.

"I'm the face of Maybelline," said the brunette with a flip of her hair. "I'm cute all the time."

"Riiiight."

Rachel glanced at her phone. "I should probably get back to Lima sometime soon... I need to practice for…Hanukkah songs…" She had momentarily forgotten that Quinn didn't know about New Year's Eve yet.

"Damn, you must be eager to get rid of me if you're going to go practice the dreidel song for the next week instead of staying with me and the orphan boy." The tone was teasing, but Rachel couldn't help hoping that Quinn really wanted her to stay…

"I'm going to go get changed really quick, okay?" She brushed past Quinn in the doorway, letting her hand trace the hem of the blonde's sweatpants.

She barely felt Quinn shiver as she passed and headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. As soon as she had slipped the borrowed t-shirt off, she felt soft hands circle her waist.

"Hey," Quinn whispered, softly kissing Rachel's back and causing delicious quivers to run up her spine. Rachel turned and wrapped her arms around the taller woman's waist, pulling their hips together.

"Hey yourself," she said, leaning in to run her lips down Quinn's neck. She felt the blonde shiver again, and laughed softly in her ear. "You cold or something? You keep shivering," she murmured.

Quinn lightly traced Rachel's hip bones with her fingers, and now it was the blonde's turn to smile as the brunette quivered from the touch. "Well. So do you," Quinn said. "How do you explain that?"

Rachel shrugged, her brown eyes locked with the hazel. "I think you need to turn up the heat in here or something," she said innocently

"Oh. Well. I plan to," came the response, and Rachel felt herself tipping backwards and tumbling onto the bed.

As chaste as they had been the night before, the morning was the exact, complete, total, undeniable opposite. Rachel found herself wondering at how it was possible she had gotten _so wet_ in about two minutes. Quinn was wondering this, as well, but also wondered at how lucky she was that no one lived upstairs, because the way the headboard slammed into the wall as Rachel's hands slammed into the headboard as Quinn's fingers slammed into Rachel was making quite a fucking racket. And both of their moaning just enhanced the symphony.

As Rachel was lying there, spent, Quinn held her close to her chest and softly kissed her head over and over. Rachel gripped her hand, feeling complete and secure and still so wildly turned on that she couldn't stand it, and all of a sudden it was Quinn's turn to be on her back, gripping the headboard, with Rachel kissing her and touching her and completely destroying any self-control she had left because, with Rachel, Quinn was beginning to discover her self-control disappeared pretty fast.

They definitely weren't cold any more, as if they ever had been. Rachel kissed Quinn's forehead, the taste of sweat reaching her lips. The blonde's heart was hammering, and Rachel held her tightly as she came down from her high.

"It's okay, you're okay," she murmured as she stroked Quinn's hair. Quinn's nails were still partially digging into Rachel's back, but her grip loosened as her breathing and heart rate steadied. Rachel moved her hands to stroke the blonde's cheek as her hazel eyes opened.

Quinn smiled at her, looking content as she reached up.

"Hey," she said, and Rachel laughed at her.

"Don't you start with "hey" again. Now look where that got us, hm?" She nuzzled Quinn's cheek. The blonde shifted so that she was sitting up against the headboard.

"Wow. Hey, Rach?"

"Yes?"

"Can you bring me some water? I would get it but I can't feel my legs."

Rachel couldn't feel her legs too terribly well, but she also was thirsty, so she climbed out of Quinn's bed still naked and headed to the kitchen. She saw that the kitten was still asleep in the bathroom as she found a glass and filled it up. She took a few gulps, refilled it, and returned to the bedroom. Sliding back in next to Quinn, she wrapped an arm around the blonde's shoulder and lifted the glass to her lips.

"Thank you." She took the glass, took a drink and set it down on the table. Rachel ran a thumb across Quinn's cheek and the hazel eyes closed for a minute. Then, she leaned up to look to Rachel.

"So…you still leaving or can I make you something to eat?"


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Thank you for reading, as always. Please keep reviews coming! I hope all of you are doing well out there.

-Raggy

Unpacking at her apartment or rushing home to Lima seemed terribly unimportant as she petted Jean Valjean and watched Quinn move around the kitchen in just a t-shirt and her underwear.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Rachel asked. "You can teach, you can fuck, you can sing, you can cook…"

Quinn shook her head. "Nope, I think I'm perfect, actually."

"It's a wonder you're single," Rachel said with a smirk. Quinn shot her a death glare.

"It's no wonder _you_ are," she retorted. Rachel shrugged.

"I'm just too hot to handle," she said. "Hey, speaking of, what are you cooking over there?"

"Meat."

"Yum yum, my favie."

"No, really, just some pasta. I don't have too many vegan ingredients, but I remember you enjoy the fungi."

"Yes, that sounds delicious. Thank you, Quinn."

The blonde seemed very at ease as she chopped up mushrooms and some garlic and threw them in a pan. Perhaps it was the clothing (or lack thereof), but Rachel sensed a definite lightness in her step and her smile. She was quite positive no one would _ever _have been close enough to Quinn in high school to witness something like this.

The tiny disagreement they had yesterday had not reared its head again, thankfully – and Rachel didn't get how Quinn could think there was some barrier between them based on career paths and income levels. Gone were the days when she thought money and fame were the most important. Show business was brutal. It changed a girl. And she had met plenty of lower-class people who could sing and dance right over her. She knew Puck couldn't pay all of the electric at his apartment sometimes. And she really couldn't care less about who made how much doing what kind of work.

She was already looking forward to Christmas, just so she could spend more time with Quinn and try to convince her and her fathers to do Times Square. Knowing she was only going to be two hours from Quinn and from her new life in Columbus was going to be torture – but there was business to attend to and she wanted to spend time with her dad and daddy as well. Plus, she needed to ask them if it was all right for Quinn to come over, still…

"Did I lose you in there?" Rachel looked up.

"No, just swimming in my own thoughts." She smiled as Jean stretched and purred. "I'm looking forward to Christmas already, you know?"

"I'll be happy when they get all those songs off of my radio." Quinn stirred the pot of noodles and dumped some tomato sauce in a pan. "What do you eat for Christmas dinner anyhow?"

"Probably not ham, but that's not the point." Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Don't make me write it down or anything, Fabray. I'm excited to see you again."

Quinn took a breath. "I've got to say, it's going to be hard not to drive up there early…"

Rachel beamed at her. "So you're excited?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"What are you doing for New Year's?" Rachel asked casually.

"Uh. I guess hanging out with you?"

Rachel could barely contain a giggle. "Plan on it, okay?"

"Sure."

_Yes_. Step one: make sure Quinn was available.

The food was beginning to make Rachel's stomach growl, and soon they were both tucking in to a pasta lunch. Rachel swore it was one of the best meals she had in a while, which made Quinn blush.

"No seriously, I never get home-cooked meals," she said. "I barely even cook for myself because I can't really cook."

"Well, I'll teach you. You'll need to survive in the wilds of Columbus."

Jean Valjean began getting too close to Rachel's bowl for her comfort, so she set him down. Quinn shook her head.

"I can't believe I let that thing in," she said through a mouthful of pasta.

"Fuck off, you love him."

"Don't swear around him!" Quinn picked him up and covered his tiny ears. "He's a baby. He doesn't need to pick up your Brooklyn swagger."

Rachel scoffed. "_Swagger_? Thank you, 2011 version of Justin Bieber. He's a street cat, anyhow. He's a tough guy."

"Oh, I thought he was a cute little baby." Quinn set him back down. "Go play, you little fucker."

Rachel couldn't help but continue to study Quinn as they ate, soaking in her presence before they said goodbye for a few days. The past few days had been a blur – new apartment, trip to the zoo, cuddling and sex in a matter of two days. She had really enjoyed it, and it seemed as if the pretty blonde across from her had, as well.

She helped Quinn wash the dishes, and chatted idly about the latest and greatest YouTube bits they had seen. By that time it was after noon. She sighed and took the taller woman's hands in hers.

"I really should go," she said. "I told them I'd be back to decorate the house this afternoon. They're terrible at it."

"You don't need a shower or anything?"

"No, I can just get one at home…" It was kind of cute, really, how she was asking Rachel to stay a little longer. But Rachel knew she should hit the road or she would never leave.

Quinn smiled. "All right… Sunday, right? What time?"

Rachel shrugged. "Daddy usually goes to church at like eleven, and Dad and I stay home to cook. We eat around three or four. Puck and his mom usually show up around one or something."

"Well, I'll go with him."

"What?"

"I'll go with your daddy to Christmas Mass." Rachel's jaw dropped. Quinn smiled and shrugged at her. "It's Christmas. I should go, too. And I think it would give us an opportunity to talk. He's the quieter one?"

Rachel laughed. "Kind of. He frets a lot, but if everything is fine he's calm and doesn't say a whole lot. Are you sure that wouldn't feel awkward?" She was surprised at Quinn's offer.

"Rachel, it's _Christmas_."

"True, but…"

"Do you not think they'll like me?"

"No, no…" She reached up and tucked a strand of Quinn's blonde hair behind her ear. But it was a lie, sort of. She didn't really know how Michael would react, but she was really just surprised at how willing Quinn was to get to know her family all of a sudden. She leaned up and kissed her softly. "It just surprised me, is all. I know you were worried about meeting them, and now you want to go to Mass with Mikey. I think he'll love it."

She could tell Quinn was still a little concerned. "I promise," Rachel said, and kissed her again. "I think it's a great idea."

Quinn returned the kiss, hesitantly. "They know I'm coming, right?"

"…huh? Uh…"

"Rachel. You didn't tell your dads you invited me yet?"

"I've barely been _home_, Quinn…"

The hazel eyes darkened. "I _know_ they remember my name from high school and how terrible I was to you. And unless you are reinventing me as someone else, they're going to know who I am when I step into that door. If they don't know yet…"

"I'm going to tell them!" 

"I'm not going to plan on showing up until I know I'm welcome in your house, Rachel! The last thing I want to do is start a fight between you and me, or me and your parents, or you and your parents. I know they love you and are protective of you. So I'm a little worried to show up because the name Quinn Fabray probably doesn't conjure up good images." She sighed and held out her hand. "Give me your phone."

"Huh?"

"You heard me, Gretchen Wieners." Rachel quirked a smile at the obvious Mean Girls reference. "Give me your phone."

"You're not going to tell them you're Susan from Planned Parenthood, right, Regina? That would be _so_ not fetch." Rachel tried to sound like she was joking, but inside she was terrified. _Quinn wants to call my dads?_ This earned a snort, but Quinn still had her hand out expectantly.

"Quinn…seriously, I'll tell them."

"Rachel, I'm going to be freaking about it until I know." And Rachel believed her, because she remembered how neurotic Quinn could get when something was bothering her. She handed the phone over, and chewed her lip as Quinn searched it.

"Don't bite your lip at me like that," she said evenly.

"Which one are you calling?"

"Your daddy. I need to make sure he won't have a panic attack when I tell him we're going to church together." She put the phone to her ear and leaned against the counter.

"Hello? …no, this isn't… No, Rachel's fine, Mr. Berry. I'm standing with her right now. Mr. Berry, this is Quinn Fabray. I'm sure you remember me from Rachel's high school." She paused, and Rachel almost envisioned her daddy sweating as he realized whom he was speaking to. "Yes sir, I'm doing well, how are you? …good. Mr. Berry, your daughter and I are back to being friends again after our ten-year hiatus, and she invited me to your Christmas with the Puckermans, apparently, without asking you. …yes, really. And I know that I probably don't have a very good reputation with you and your husband, so I wanted to clear it with you." She looked at the ceiling as she said this. The kitten pawed at her socks, and she knelt to pet him.

Michael was either thinking a lot, or had a lot to say. "Well, absolutely," Quinn continued, "But I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to invade the family holiday with my presence. I know how important you and the other Mr. Berry are to Rachel. …yes sir, of course…yes." She continued to pet the purring Jean Valjean as Rachel strained her ears to hear any part of what her daddy was saying. "..okay. Well, thank you so much, Mr. Berry. Oh, and one more thing? Rachel said you usually go to Mass on Christmas. …do you mind if I accompany you? I haven't really been in a long time. I promise I won't sing too off key. Yes sir. Eleven? All right. Thank you, Mr. Berry. See you soon."

She hung up and handed the phone back to Rachel, and then scooped up the cat and proceeded to coo at him a little bit. Rachel couldn't stand it.

"What did he _say?_"

"He said hi and wondered when you were going to come back," Quinn said as she tickled Jean under the chin. "Hey, this guy is cute. I'm glad I made you keep him."

"Quinn I'm _serious_."

"So am I. He totally asked when you were coming back." Rachel was being tortured and she knew it, so she crossed her arms and scowled at Quinn. "Aw, come on. He said it was all right! I'm just joking around with you, Berry."

Rachel couldn't help but smile. "I figured, but I was still worried he might have, like, told you no." She walked over and put her head on Quinn's shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what? Giving Michael Berry some more grey hairs?"

"Quinn, no, you know what I mean. I appreciate that you're coming."

"Well, you're welcome. You're lucky to have been raised in such an open family. Your daddy sounds like a good guy, and I talked to him for a few minutes. I know how important they are to you."

_Am I important to you_? Rachel wanted to ask, but she held the question. They way Quinn spent a moment just holding her as they said goodbye was a bit of an indication.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Hey wonderful people! Thanks for hanging in with me. :) I hope you like it so far.

When you think of someone who is president of their sorority, you probably don't think of someone who also writes Glee fanfiction. But, alas, I fall in both of those categories! We have recruitment week this week, so my life is going to be chewing me up for a week and then spitting me out next Monday night. Please don't get too frustrated if I don't do daily updates. :( Thanks in advance!

-Raggy

Rachel pulled out of Quinn's driveway, trying not to feel too sad as the beautiful woman in the doorway made a little tortoiseshell kitten wave goodbye. She smiled as she drove down the street and steered towards the highway.

Yes, it had been an excellent weekend. She was already looking forward to seeing Quinn again, to kissing those lips and possibly staring into those hazel eyes for a while. Who would have guessed that Rachel Barbra Berry and Lucy Quinn Fabray would be spending the holidays together by the force of their own free will?

Rachel may have dreamed it, back in high school, but never would have dared to tell anyone. Especially Quinn. But now, here they were, stuck somewhere between friends and something more. Quinn had even talked to her _daddy _on the _phone_. That was kind of a big step! But she already couldn't wait for however blessedly awkward their "family reunion" was.

And hearing the blonde sing last night had given her some inspiration for what to perform in Times Square. She was nervous…but…

At a red light, Rachel scrolled through her phone until she found the number she was looking for. She put the phone to her ear and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Miranda? This is Rachel Berry...I don't know if you remember me."

"Well of course I do, darlin'. How are you?" said Miranda Lambert, with a sweet Texas twang that Rachel didn't ever hear much of. New Yorkers and Midwesterners were all she really heard these days.

"I'm great, thank you, ma'am. Happy holidays!"

"Thank you, and to you too. What can I do for you this morning?"

"I need to ask a favor of you, ma'am."

The country singer laughed. "Please, just Miranda. What can I do for you?"

Rachel told her the idea, and the older woman sounded pleased.

"I would love that, of course you can sing that at Times Square. I wish I could make it there with ya, but my husband and I are planning on going camping that weekend..."

"No, no, that's perfectly fine. I really appreciate it. I know it's one of your favorite songs..."

"You know, I never intended for 'Love is Lookin' for You' to be released. I just wrote it for me, but my mom really liked it when I sang it for her. I don't get to play it a lot, but people seem to connect with it."

"I actually heard it for the first time last night," Rachel admitted. "And it really spoke to me. So, thank you for putting it on that record."

"Well, absolutely. It would be an honor to have you sing it, Rachel. You tell Ryan Seacrest's team that it's best sung with just a few instruments. Some songs are good when they're stripped down, but I know y'all like to make a big spectacle in NYC for New Year's. And you're an actress, so you know how important it is when you're singin' to keep the emotion palpable to the audience. Especially if there is someone on your mind, you know?"

Rachel smiled to herself. "Not a problem."

"All right. Have a happy holiday, okay? I'll be lookin' for the performance if we have any cell service out there. I've got to run, now, but call me any time if you need anything!"

"Thank you."

"Mmhmm! Bye, darlin'." And she hung up. Rachel immediately hit the number for Jen on her speed dial, but the agent didn't pick up. So, she left a message detailing her music plans for New Year's.

She smiled as the car rolled back to Lima. This was going to be a spectacular Christmas.

The kitten lying on her chest helped a little, but Quinn couldn't shake a feeling of loneliness that settled in when Rachel left.

It kind of worried her. On one hand, she didn't really have too many friends. It was nice to have someone who wanted to be with her, and talk to her. But the cuddling part and the sex were definitely perks, and the feeling of wanting to be with Rachel more were indicative of something else entirely.

The last time she had said "I love you" to someone and meant it was whenever she had talked to Santana and Brittany on the phone and said it to them. And that had been it for a long time. She did love her mom but she never said it. Neither of them really expressed many emotions together. She loved Beth but it was too painful to tell her. She loved Puck but "I love you" was a little much for their relationship. It was weird to think of saying it to him.

But it had been on the tip of her tongue as Rachel left and it kind of freaked her out.

Her own feelings were probably going to rampage across her brain for the next few hours if she didn't get them out. So, as she had done for over a decade, she called Santana and hoped some raw, honest opinion from Boston would make her laugh and clear her head.

"Hey bitch," came the greeting after two rings.

"Hey. Merry Christmas. I miss you."

"No, she's not in right now, can I take a message?"

"Yeah, tell your mom thanks for last night. You're a real charmer, Santana."

"I knows it." They both started laughing. It was so routine, so _normal_ for the two of them to be messing with each other the second they got on the phone. Quinn shook her head as it became painfully aware to her, again, just how much she missed keeping in touch with S and B.

"What's up, Q?" Santana asked. "Haven't heard from you in a minute."

"Yeah, I know it. I'm sorry."

"Nah, you're busy being a lesbian or thespian or whatever."

"Both, thank you very much."

"We got it, we got it. Still, don't be a stranger, right? How the hell are you?"

"I'm…fine. I'm great, actually," Quinn responded. "How about you two?"

"Just livin' the dream," Santana said, and Quinn knew she meant it. From the times the three of them talked on Skype or Google Chat or even on the phone, it sounded to her like San and Britt were perfectly happy in Boston, raising their adorable adopted children.

"How are James and Julie?"

"They're good. Brittany won't stop telling them about Santa and Christmas. They don't get it yet, of course, because they're not even one. But they get excited and giggle because she gets so excited about it. It's cute. What are you doing for Christmas, woman?"

Quinn took a breath. "I'm going over to the Berrys' to have dinner with them, and then Puck and his mom are going to come as well."

" I thought Berry was Jewish? And so are the Puckermans?"

"Yeah, but one of her dads is Christian…and it's still Hanukkah on the 25th, so we may as well celebrate. It's not like anything is _open_ on Christmas, really."

"Yep, just the China Buffet and probably Rachel's legs. A strange combination, huh, Q?"

Quinn wasn't sure if Santana knew something was up, so she played it cool.

"You don't need a holiday. Brittany can do nothing more than step on your foot and the Harvard Bridge swings wide open for business."

"Jesus, you're _hysterical_. But seriously, I'm glad you're all doing something together. That sounds like a good Christmas."

"…thanks, San."

"So what are you getting Rachel? Fuzzy handcuffs or... I dunno, what do you get someone for Hanukkah?"

"Santana. I'm not dating Rachel or anything."

"Yikes, Queen Bee, I never said you were! …so, are you?"

"Santana."

"Quinn."

"_I'm not_." She didn't know why she was getting so defensive all of a sudden. It's not like Santana hated Rachel. They had all gotten close in a weird way senior year, and she was sure the Boston couple had stayed in touch with the Broadway star over the last decade. So maybe Santana knew something, because Rachel told her, and this was her way of telling Quinn she approved.

Or maybe she was just being a bitch.

Quinn wasn't taking chances.

As if Santana read her mind from miles away, she tried again a little more gently. "Q, come on. I'm just messing around. I don't _care_ if you're dating Rachel, or sleeping with her or anything like that. We talked a few weeks ago and she mentioned that you two were hanging out. So, I just figured…giving all the sexual tension in high school…"

"Santana, you're not helping."

"Q, the woman sounded happy that you were even _hanging out_ with her. Sorry, but it's crossed my mind more than a few times that you've been getting cozy in the sheets. And I don't care, Quinn. Yeah, it's Berry. And yeah, it's you. All hell would have broken loose at McKinley if you two were hanging out too much. But we've grown now and we're all friends. I kind of love that hobbit. And you know I love you, too."

Quinn could only mumble under her breath. She heard Brittany hollering in the background.

"Brittany loves you, too, she says. Don't get so uptight, _hermana_. I'm sorry if I pissed you off."

"No, you didn't…hell, I don't know what I feel right now. I mean, San, I helped her pick out an apartment yesterday. I'm going to her family Christmas. She made me keep this cute little kitten she found. It's like I'm on a little string or something."

"What, like Berry's got you whipped?"

"Well, no. Well…no… I don't think so. No."

"You're confusing."

"Tell me something I _don't_ know, S. It's like…it's like I enjoy having her around, and I want to make her happy. Does that make sense?"

"Well, sure it does, Q. But you also like having Britts and I around, and you like making us happy because we're your friends. So does it stop there with Berry…er, Rachel?"

"No…she makes me happy too, I guess. Makes me feel like someone wants to be with me. Or, you know, _needs_ me a little." Quinn felt a little corny saying it out loud, but then again, she felt like she _needed_ to say it.

"Okay, kind of getting somewhere, right?"

"Yeah…"

Santana cleared her throat. "Look, I don't know what you've said to each other or done or whatever. But it sounds like there's something more than friends there, right?"

"I think that's accurate," Quinn said dryly.

"Well, I'll bet. But do you two want it to _stay_ like friends, or go further, or just be in limbo?"

"I don't know," confessed the blonde as she slumped back onto her couch. The kitten followed and cuddled next to her arm.

"Have you talked about it?"

"Kind of…"

"And?"

"I don't know, San."

"Q, you don't really know a lot when it comes to Rachel Berry, do you?"

"…not really."

"Maybe you should talk about it."

"That kind of scares me, though."

"Why, Q?"

"I don't know…what if I don't get the answer I want? Or give the answer she wants?"

"Quinn, you can't predict or plan everything in a relationship. Even in high school, I wasn't positive of everything that would happen with Brittany. Right now, you've got to decide what the hell you want out of Rachel Berry and start with that. I don't think it's fair for either of you to keep it up if you're not honest with yourselves and each other. …and that's me, just being honest," she finished, and Quinn knew she was right.

"I guess it's hard to think about us lasting a long time," she said. "I made Rachel's life miserable innnnnnnnnnnnnn high school up until senior year, really. And we have chemistry now, but…I don't know how long that's going to last."

"Quinn," Santana said gently. "I know you like plans and security, but…it's not always that simple with love."

"I…"

"Oh stop, I know you two have had the hots for each other for _years_."

"But that's not the same as –"

"It very well could be, the way you're talking about her. Or it could be a fling. I dunno, Quinn, and neither do either of you. Just let it roll, girl."

"I think that's hard for me, still."

"I know." And Quinn _knew_ she knew. Santana had been there for her, through everything.

"Thank you. …I think I'm still confused, but...this helped. I think."

Santana laughed. "You're not sure of anything now, are you?"

"I don't know…" Quinn cracked a smile. "I'm sorry. I called you for advice and I don't really even know what I need advice about.

"Yes you do, betch. You're just confused. But it's okay. Britts and I have your back like always, and even though we hated Berry through high school I know she's a good person inside, okay? Just like the three of us, but who would have known we ended up as good as we did?"

"That's true. You're right, S."

"I'm always right, Q. Look, have fun, okay? Christmas and Hanukkah with the Berrys and Puckermans. It's going to be hilarious, you dig? Be chill and win her dads over. I know they mean a lot to her."

"Okay."

"Okay? You tell me how it goes, and you relax. Go play with your new pussy."

Quinn laughed at this. "Thanks, Santana."

"Yeah, yeah. See you soon, lady lumps."

She couldn't help but smile as she pulled the little kitten to her chest.


	22. Chapter 22

The next few days were…_hard._ Quinn went up to Ohio Wesleyan to sew costumes and talk aimlessly to other faculty and build sets and just _not think _and not miss Rachel. The university's production of "Once Upon a Mattress" would be in early March, so everything needed to be pretty much ready by the time the students returned in January. Quinn didn't mind getting some of the basic set pieces done. They were putting a damn _castle_ on the stage; of course it would take a while!

She and Rachel talked late into the night, every night, about anything and everything. What television shows they were watching, what they ate, what Jean Valjean did, what Rachel's dads were up to, et cetera. Everything. Quinn couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't stop wanting to talk to her. She wondered more than once if she was okay. She had never acted like this with anyone. And she had never felt so damn _lonely_ without someone around.

Having Jean Valjean really helped. She began to admit to herself how much she enjoyed the kitten's presence. When she came home, he was at the door waiting. He sat on the toilet when she took a shower and meowed, as if he didn't know where she had gone. He slept in her bed while she slept and insisted on being right next to her, all the time. He sat on her lap when she was watching television, and tried to curl up on her computer every time she had it open.

Again, it was that feeling of being _needed_, even if he was just a stray cat. She hadn't made much of an effort to find him a new home. Maybe…maybe she'd keep him. The way he looked at her, like he relied on her to keep him warm and fed and clean…well, she enjoyed it. And she felt a strong urge to protect him. Yes, he was a good companion for her solo apartment life.

Finally, after a week that seemed like much longer, she was going to the Berrys'. Quinn groaned as she rolled out of bed at 7:30 a.m. on Christmas morning. Jean Valjean stretched, and meowed sleepily as if to say, "this is way too early for a Sunday, Mom!"

But the thought of seeing Rachel and her brown eyes and her smile got her out of bed.

She threw some clothes in an old gym bag, in case she needed to stay over or something - the weather was supposed to be nasty tonight. She slipped the gift bag with the bottle of wine in it for the Berrys. May as well come bearing gifts, right?

Jean wound around her ankles as she made some coffee, then brushed her teeth and got dressed in the bathroom. She had decided on a pair of khakis, a pink oxford shirt, and a grey and white striped cardigan for the evening. Her tan boots weren't quite the perfect match, so she threw her cleaner pair of Sperrys in the bag, as well.

She was kind of nervous, but she pushed that feeling to the back of her mind as she gave Jean some extra food and water. "Merry Christmas, buddy," she told him, and he purred at her. "I'll be back, okay? Don't eat anything." She made sure all the potential kitten snacks were put up high in the cupboards. The last thing she wanted was to come home and find all her bread products ripped open and half-eaten.

The coffee went in to her favorite OWU mug, and she grabbed a pair of granola bars from on top of her fridge to snack on. True, they would eat a big dinner, but she needed some sort of fortification for the day. Jean got a hug and some kisses, and Quinn gave him a few treats to keep him happy while she put on her coat and headed out the door.

She texted Rachel as she sat in her car and waited for it to warm up.

_Quinn: - All right, this crack of dawn thing sucks! I'm about to hit the road._

_Rachel: - Okay, be careful driving. I can't wait to see you. :)_

_Quinn: - Thank you. Me either. I'll see you in a little bit okay?_

The roads were dusted with a little bit of snow, and other drivers were moving carefully on this Christmas morning. Quinn was, as well. Her manual transmission on her Yaris got a little tricky when the roads were slick. She set her iPod to shuffle through her entire Miranda Lambert collection and hit the familiar road to Lima.

Two hours later, and after some frustrating traffic snarls, Quinn was pulling in to the Berrys' driveway. She turned the car off, cranked up the emergency brake, and took a deep breath. The first time she'd been here was for Rachel's party their sophomore year. She had visited a few times their senior year, but that was it.

_I can do this_.

Rachel had the door open before she even knocked, and about knocked the gift bottle of wine out of the blonde's hands with her hug.

"Merry Hannukkahmas," Quinn said as she buried her nose in the sweet-smelling brown hair.

"You too," Rachel said as she squeezed tightly. They broke apart, Quinn's hand still on Rachel's back. The brunette was smiling up at her. "Come on!" she said. "Let's introduce you to my dads and the cats."

The blonde smiled as she followed Rachel, but her heart was pounding. Michael Berry had been polite on the phone, but she was still nervous about spending time with him. And his husband. What if they confronted her about her behavior in high school?

But the two handsome men in the kitchen reading a recipe book were definitely more adorable than terrifying. Michael was tall and baldheaded, dressed almost identically to Quinn in khakis and a pink button-down, but his sweater was brown. Isaac was shorter, with thick wavy hair and glasses. He was in khakis, as well, and a blue and white cardigan. Neither of them seemed to notice the two young women standing in the doorway.

"Aren't they cute?" Rachel asked quietly as she whipped out her phone. "Shh." She took a quick picture of her dads as they pored over the cookbook, and giggled as she uploaded it to Twitter.

Then, she cleared her throat. "Dad? Daddy? Quinn's here!" They both looked up at the same time, smiled, and came around the island in the kitchen to shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you both," she said, giving both of them her best "I'm a professional" handshake. "I thought I'd bring some wine, because it's about the only vegan thing I enjoy…" They both chuckled, and Isaac took the bag from her.

"Come on in, Quinn." He said. "Thank you for coming."

"No, thank you for having me," she said. She shrugged off her jacket, and Michael extended a hand to take it.

The Berrys' house was in a nicer suburb in Lima, and was a pretty big place for three people. The kitchen overlooked a living room, where their television and movies were. The formal dining room was off to the right of the front door, and the Christmas tree and family computer sat in a room right in front of the front hall. The kitchen was spacious, and there was another table in there – Quinn guessed for less formal eating. And outside the kitchen, there was a little deck and the backyard.

"Your house is very beautiful," she said. Michael and Isaac both smiled at her.

"Thank you," Michael said. "Do you need coffee or anything?"

She shook her head. "I had some earlier," she said. "But thank you." She spotted a feline face in the hallway, and knelt down. "Come here, kitty kitties!" She saw Rachel smiling out of the corner of her eye as Ian McKellen and Gloria Estefan came trotting over to her and sniffed her hands.

"They probably smell Jean Valjean," Rachel said. "How is he?"

"He's terrible."

"What?"

"I think I like him too much." Quinn looked back at Rachel with a grin.

"Rachel tells me you can cook?" Isaac said.

Quinn blushed. "Uh. A little…"

"Good," Isaac said. "I'm trying something new and I have no idea what some of these terms mean." He pointed at the cookbook, and she walked over to glance at it.

"You want to make a vegan Christmas pudding? That shouldn't be too hard…"

"Yes, we've never made pudding before, though…" Isaac was glancing over her shoulder. "I also want to make it a _flaming _pudding."

"Pudding sounds great, but I don't want the house to catch on fire," Michael said, his brow furrowed. "Honey, please…can't we just make that vegan chocolate bread pudding with the rum?"

"Come on, this will be fun!" Isaac said. "It will be symbolic of Hanukkah, too."

"Let's hope the house doesn't burn for eight days, baby," Michael said. "Quinn, do you… do you have any idea how to flame a pudding? Do you need _lighter fluid_ or something?"

Quinn smiled. "I think you just use hard liquor, Mr. Berry. And a long lighter."

Michael looked paler. Rachel squeezed his shoulder.

Isaac was fascinated. "So that's all you do? Soak it in alcohol and light it?"

"Yes, if I remember correctly…" She had made a pudding last year for the LGBT group's Thanksgiving dinner, which they hosted in one of the dorm kitchens. When her back was turned, one of the seniors had poured rum over the pudding and lit it.

Between yelling at the student and trying to keep the fire alarms from going off, she had seen that pudding go up in flames. And that fucking pudding had looked spectacular.

Isaac was looking at her with a fire in his eyes. "This is great. This will be an awesome blog post on the _Times_ website! I can get pictures…and…"

Michael looked terrified. Quinn smiled at him. "We'll be fine," she said. "And you have fire extinguishers in the house, right?"

"_Of course._"

"I think it will be fun," Rachel said. "Come on, daddy, we'll be safe. I've never eaten flaming pudding!"

With his daughter, husband, and Quinn staring at him, Michael Berry visibly struggled with his anxiety about a flaming pudding and all the peer pressure he was receiving.

"You just keep Puckerman away from it," he said finally. "The last thing I need is that young man near a fire."

Both of the young women grinned at each other, and Isaac clapped his hands. "Perfect. Rachel and I can work on the pudding while you two are at church, and then we'll warm it up and all that when it's time for dinner."

Michael still looked nervous.

"We can pray for the pudding to just fall apart or something when we're at church," Quinn said with a wink.

She earned a smile for this.

"Speaking of, Quinn, we should get going soon."

"Honey, it's only ten," said Isaac.

"Yes, but…I want to get a good seat. And the roads are slick, right, Quinn?"

"Yes sir, a little bit."

Michael nodded. "I don't want to rush. So, Quinn? Whenever you're ready?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Mr. Berry."


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Sorry again for the delays. :( Started a new job this week so my down time to write is disappearing! But Quinn and Michael Berry are bonding now, so it's all good eh?

A bit of a short filler chapter but I hope y'all like it all the same.

Michael Berry was an extraordinarily cautious driver. Though the roads were clear, he was going exactly the speed limit and focusing intensely on the road. Quinn was almost afraid to say anything and distract him.

They had been in the car five minutes before Michael said anything.

"Quinn, you're teaching now?"

The question surprised her after the silence, and she almost jumped.

"Oh! Yes sir."

He gave her a brief glance before snapping his eyes back onto the road. "Please, just call me Michael, okay?"

"Sure thing, Michael. I'm at Ohio Wesleyan, teaching drama."

"How many students are there?"

"Less than 2,000." She saw his eyebrows go up. "I know, it was quite a switch after Yale and Ohio State. But NYADA was about that size, right?"

"Smaller," he said, "but it's a highly selective breeding ground for Broadway-obsessed teens. I would expect it to be small."

Quinn nodded. "OWU is fairly selective. It's also expensive, like a lot of other liberal arts schools around. Kenyon, Wooster, Denison, Wittenberg… About half of the kids are from Ohio, but everyone else is from the country and the world over. A lot of them are on scholarship, too."

"You like it there?"

"Yeah, I really do. It's a very liberal atmosphere, lots of different people." She let out a wry chuckle. "My parents' political leanings didn't stick with me for very long once I got to college. I had a baby, first of all. I voted for Obama in 2012. I realized I liked women long before I finally admitted it to myself. Now, I'm teaching theatre and advising a group of LGBT kids and their allies."

Michael Berry's eyebrows were up again.

"Well," he said carefully, "It sounds like you're the perfect child."

She laughed warmly and smiled at him. "At least someone thinks so. But you already have the perfect child."

He shook his head, but he had a small grin on his face.

"I'm just glad she's home in one piece. Driving from NYC with Puckerman? The horror. It'll be good to have her close by."

"The apartment's nice," she said without thinking. Another eyebrow raise. "Well, I mean, I was there to help her pick it out…"

Michael was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "You live around Columbus, right?"

"Right by OSU, yes."

The handsome man next to her looked deep in thought.

"Well," he said after a minute, "At least she'll have you to look after her. I mean, this movie business is something she's never done. I heard there may be some sort of action violence or something. "

"I haven't seen the script or anything," Quinn said with a shrug.

"Hollywood and Broadway are two different animals," Michael said. "I think she's lucky to be in Columbus, where the paparazzi may be off her back a little more."

"Do they bug her a lot?"

"Well… yes. Especially in NYC. What else do they have to do but snap pictures of Broadway stars at the club or in their cars?" His brow furrowed. "No matter how many people find my daughter's life fascinating, I will never justify people chasing her around with cameras or trying to break into her hotel room."

Her jaw dropped. "Damn…"

"I will never forget the night she called me, crying, because some crazy fan was trying to break in to her room at the Hilton somewhere and take pictures of her. She had just gotten out of the shower, and he was saying he had pictures and he would sell them to the tabloids unless she opened the door and had sex with him. Luckily, one of the other guests heard him and made such a racket trying to get the camera away that security showed up."

He nodded as they pulled into the church parking lot. Putting the car in park, he turned to Quinn and took a deep breath. "Quinn, I worry about a lot of things. My daughter and husband are at the forefront of that worry. There's a reason Rachel gets nervous in crowds, and probably a reason she moved out of NYC. She's had a few…run-ins, and it was hard for her to feel completely safe after that. She doesn't talk about it a lot, and I think she's let it go, but sometimes in crowds or in new places she freaks out." He searched her eyes, which she felt going dark at the thought of whoever had tried to hurt Rachel. "Quinn, I don't know what you and Rachel are to each other or what you may become. But please, promise an overprotective father something. Look out for her, okay?"

"Of course I will."

"Thank you." He smiled at her. "All right, let's go?" She nodded and got out of the car. He walked briskly inside, and she hurried to keep up with his energetic pace.

The church looked pretty big from the outside, bigger than the one her parents dragged her to. Quinn guessed that there were classrooms for Bible school and the like inside. Michael opened the door for her with a smile, and they joined the small crowd of families heading to the sanctuary. The church was adorned with wreaths and holly, and Quinn could see a giant evergreen in the worship area, surrounded by poinsettias.

"This is beautiful," she said to Michael as someone handed them little booklets at the door and shook their hands. They took their seats towards the back, and she glanced at what she had just been given. "Is this a program?"

He laughed as he pulled some hand sanitizer out of his pocket. "We call them worship aides, but yes, they're like programs. Part of it is just announcements for the church, but the other part tells you everything that goes on during the service. Songs and such." He offered her some sanitizer, which she took to be polite.

"I have never seen this before," she said. "So I can basically check off the parts of the service as I go and count down until I get to go home?"

Michael snorted. "Or you can read along and be a good little church girl." He glanced at his program. "I should come to church more often…apparently we do a lot of fun things…"

As a middle-aged woman began playing the piano and they all stood, Quinn abruptly realized how lucky Rachel was to have such a loving family background and two men who cared about her deeply. As overprotective as Michael Berry may seem, she knew he loved his daughter and his husband more than anything. And she didn't know enough of Isaac to make a judgment about him, but he seemed friendly and caring, as well.

If they were willing to let her into their house, after all, that was a huge testament to their character.

The service was nice, and Quinn admitted to herself how much she missed singing Christmas songs. Michael had a loud voice, but it was on key, and the pianist was making the most of her sheet music as the congregation sang along. It was a nice background to her own voice.

Everyone seemed friendly enough. They shook her hand and wished her a Merry Christmas when the worship leader asked everyone to greet their neighbors. When the collection plate went around, the old man who passed it to her and Michael winked at her. The pastor was a middle-aged man with sandy blonde hair and a slight southern accent, who was telling as many jokes as he was telling Scripture lessons.

It was a little strange to be back in a church, but she felt comfortable next to Michael for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that her own father had been such an asshole, but she definitely was feeling some fatherly connection that she thought she had lost long ago.

And she had just met the man today.

The other father she thought she had lost long ago, of course, was right there in church with her. She hadn't prayed in a while, but she took some time to bow her head and shoot up a silent word of thanks to God for the successful career she had. She also asked for guidance with her relationship with Rachel – because, as many times as she had heard how much God hated gay people, she just didn't believe it. And she knew she needed help deciding how to proceed with the relationship.

As the service ended and everyone filed out, Michael got caught up talking to people. Quinn fiddled with her phone, feeling awkward all alone. She knew it was Christmas, and he undoubtedly was catching up with people, but it felt strange to be in the middle of a church by herself.

"Quinn!" She looked up. Michael was beckoning her over to the small group he was in, and she went over hesitantly.

"They were asking me if you were my daughter with her hair dyed," he said with a wink. "She hasn't been to church with me in a while. Hell, _I _haven't been to church in a while. Quinn, these are some of my friends. Everyone, this is Quinn. She's Rachel's…friend."

Quinn smiled at the people surrounding her.

"As you can see," Michael said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Not quite Rachel. Well, my friends, I'll see you soon? I need to make sure my husband and daughter haven't burned the house down."

"Come to church more, Berry," said a tall man to his left.

"I'll try. Quinn, after you?"

They were both relatively quiet on the way home. Quinn was beginning to realize that it was unusual for Michael to be too quiet for too long. The man practically radiated energy.

"I should go to church more," Michael finally said.

"Me too."

"It's just hard going alone. They always ask about Rachel and Ike, and I miss having them with me. You know? I feel like they pity me sometimes. Everyone else comes with their spouses and kids, and then there's Mike Berry, singing by himself."

"I know what you mean."

They were at a red light. Michael took his laser gaze off of the road for a second.

"Quinn, maybe you could come up here with Rachel to visit sometimes. Go to church with me, and spend time at the house with all of us. I think she'd like it if you were part of family things every now and then."

She gazed out the window and thought about it for a second.

An extended part of the Berry family?

Damn, this was turning into a weird Christmas.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: I know a few Jews who partake in pork, so I figured a Christmas ham would not be too out of the ordinary for Puck and Isaac to indulge in. If you would rather them remain Kosher, imagine they are eating Rachel's tofu. Love y'all!

The Berry household was filled with different aromas, and Quinn could pick out the smell of ham amidst the smell of what must have been the pudding, and something that was clearly alcoholic.

Isaac and Rachel were giggling as _It's a Wonderful Life_ played in the living room. An open bottle of bourbon sat on the counter.

"Honey, what are you doing?" Michael asked.

"Bourbon mustard glaze!" came the reply. "And I had some of the bourbon."

Rachel sensed her daddy's rising panic and steered Isaac to a chair. "Don't worry, I'm making sure he's not cooking anything right now. The pudding is set in the refrigerator, and the ham is in the oven. I expect the Puckermans to be here any minute, so everything's under control." She smiled, and Quinn grinned back. "How was church?"

"It was good," said Isaac. "I'm going to try and go more often. Maybe I'll drag Quinn along. Right, Quinn?"

"'Maybe' is the key word there, Berry."

They sat at the table with Isaac, who had taken to poring over the newspaper with a pen and crossing things out. Rachel had positioned herself next to Quinn, and Michael next to his husband, so Quinn felt like they were about to hash out some sort of diplomatic agreement across the table. Rachel nudged her and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"He likes to copy edit the paper sometimes," she said. "Especially when he's been drinking."

The cats were now under the table, and Quinn could feel one sniffing at her toes. She suddenly missed Jean Valjean, and wondered aloud how he was doing.

"See?" Rachel said with a grin. "You _love_ him."

"Who is this man in your life, Quinn?" Michael asked as he scooped up Gloria Estefan and scratched her calico head.

Quinn snorted. "Rachel found this ball of fluff kitten on my doorstep and fed him my food. Now, he thinks he owns the world."

"He's a cat," Isaac pointed out as he violently scribbled on the sports page of the _Lima Times_.

"True. I'm just worried that he's going to pee on my carpet or rip up my blinds."

"If you hate him, I'll take him. I like kitties," said Isaac. Michael rolled his eyes, patted his husband on the head, and handed him Gloria.

"Here baby, go play with Gloria. Be careful, she might get excited and scratch you." To Quinn's surprise, Isaac got up and wobbled to the living room, where he proceeded to sit on the floor in his nice khakis and drag a piece of string around. Both cats jumped at the chance to chase it.

Michael was just shaking his head as he called to his husband to be careful. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn could see Rachel smile at her dad, then turn a gaze to her. The blonde felt fingertips on the back of her arm, and she moved her hand to take Rachel's.

"Thank you for coming," the brunette said quietly.

"You don't have to thank me. And if anything, I should be thanking you for letting me be part of your family today. It's nice to feel like a part of something, you know?"

"Yeah."

A knock made them both jump, and Rachel's hand slipped as she turned in her chair. Isaac scrambled up to answer it.

Noah Puckerman, as handsome as ever, came through the door. He was brushing snow off of his leather jacket and handing something to Isaac.

"Happy Hanukkah, Uncle Ike."

"Hello, Noah, please don't give my husband any more alcohol…" Michael rushed over to take the gift away, and gave Puck a hug.

"Where's your mom? Have you eaten?" Isaac was ever the doting host as he took Puck's coat.

"She's at home, actually. My sister is home and they both have some nasty stomach virus." Michael took a few steps back, and Puck laughed. "No worries. I have been pumping Vitamin C in to my body. But, since the snow is going to pick up, they didn't want to risk staying out too late and waiting for it to clear. Or something. I just figure they don't want to puke up the ham."

He strode into the kitchen with a grin as he spotted his old friends. Rachel ran immediately to hug him. Quinn held back for a second. _Is this just going to be awkward?_

But the way he practically smothered her with his hug, and how he whispered "it's so good to see you, I miss you" in her ear made that worry dissipate.

Puck walked to the fridge like he owned the place and took three cans of Yuengling out. One, he tossed to Michael. Another, he lobbed at Quinn – who took it with a raised eyebrow. He popped the top on the third one and took a big swig.

"So," he said. "Food?"

The next half hour was spent in frenzy. Quinn directed the blending of potatoes and onions for latkes, because Isaac was just now coming off of his bourbon buzz and Michael was mildly afraid of the blender. Puck had ESPN on and was staying out of the way, and Rachel was hovering, trying to help but mostly just getting in the way. The cats were also underfoot, meowing for scraps. Quinn became aware of how much of an ordeal this had to be every year – none of them were really _that good_ in the kitchen. Puck wasn't even _trying_, either.

Finally, dinner was ready. Bourbon mustard glazed ham (and tofu for Rachel), latkes, green bean casserole, rolls, and some of the wine Quinn had brought graced the table. A sheen of sweat covered the blonde's forehead after her short stint as the head chef. Cooking for five was exhausting.

Michael asked them all to bow their heads as they sat around the table.

"God, thank you for this Christmas day and also for the miracle of Hanukkah. Thank you for Quinn and Puck, our guests tonight, and we hope they can get home safely in this storm tonight. Thank you also for Quinn's cooking ability. We ask that you bless this food and our work as we finish out this year. Amen!"

"Amen!" they all chorused.

"Let's eat!" Puck said as he speared a roll with his knife.

Dinner conversation was casual, as the Berrys asked Puck about his band and Isaac grilled Quinn about her opinion on private schools versus public schools, as well as the state of fine arts education. She wasn't sure if it was the bourbon and wine, but he was advocating theatre programs with a ferocity that Quinn couldn't believe was coming from such a seemingly docile man.

As she and Rachel offered their opinions to Isaac, Quinn caught snippets of Michael and Puck's conversation. They were talking animatedly about football. Apparently there was a big game on that night between the Bengals and the Browns.

Occasionally, Rachel would catch Quinn's eye from across the table and smile. Quinn would return it with a shy smile of her own. Her phone buzzed as she helped herself to another small mound of latkes. It was from Rachel.

_- I haven't told you yet, but I really like that sweater on you. ;)_

Quinn blushed furiously and shot a glare at Rachel, who only winked in response.

There was a lull in the conversation as the ham had all but disappeared, and the wine bottle was almost empty.

Rachel clinked her fork against her wine glass and smiled at them all.

"I have an announcement to make, everybody!"

Quinn looked at her, curious. A Christmas toast? How very Rachel Berry. But what did she mean by "announcement?"

Puck was grinning at her, but Isaac and Michael looked as confused as Quinn felt.

"As you all know, I'm moving into an apartment in Columbus as I start filming with Josh Radnor. But there's still a few things left in my apartment in New York, and thus I will be returning there soon. And there's still one final farewell I have to give to the Big Apple."

Puck's grin grew wider. Quinn caught his eye and tilted her head at him, as if to say "what the hell is this?" But he waved her query off.

"I got some good news from my agent, Jen, a few weeks ago. She asked me out to dinner at Chipotle and I must admit, I thought it was bad news. We don't usually pal around."

The realization was strange to Quinn - she never really thought that Rachel would have an _agent_, but it made perfect sense. She made a mental note to ask her about it. The celebrity part of Rachel's life felt so foreign to her.

"But," Rachel continued, "She had an opportunity for me that I couldn't pass up." She stopped. _Pause for dramatic effect_, Quinn thought. "She told me that Ryan Seacrest was looking for someone to sing in Times Square on New Year's. Ryan asked Jen if I could do it. I said yes" Quinn's jaw dropped. Isaac clapped his hands together and looked like he was tearing up. Michael was just grinning like a fool, and so was Puck.

Rachel smiled. "I have passes for backstage, too. Three of them. Dad, Daddy? Would you like to drive back with me and be there?"

"Of course we would, sweetheart." Isaac was definitely crying by now. "Oh my God, I'm so proud of you."

Rachel took a deep breath and looked at Quinn, who felt her face grow hot as she blushed.

"Quinn," the brunette said." Would you take the other ticket?"

Quinn couldn't think of what to say. On one hand, yes. She wanted to go, to visit the city again. To support Rachel and to hear her sing, because she was damn good. But...being Rachel's guest of honor? Rubbing elbows with celebrities and people she had never met, in the freezing cold in the middle of NYC? And what about when the ball dropped and everyone around them was kissing to celebrate the new year? What would they do?

Rachel was smiling at her, and Quinn felt her blush grow deeper as Michael, Isaac and Puck all looked at her.

"I... Rachel, it's a wonderful offer. Thank you. I...I'll have to think about it, okay?"

The brightness in Rachel's brown eyes dimmed slightly. Quinn's stomach dropped and she felt immediately guilty for not agreeing. But it just sounded like a big c-word. _Commitment._

"Okay," Rachel said, sounding resigned. "Of course, I know it's a big trip."

"Yeah. Thank you for the invite though. Honestly, I'm touched, I just need to think…"

Michael must have sensed how awkward Quinn felt. He stood. "So, can we try this pudding, or…?"

Puck jumped up as well. "I got it, no worries. Pudding's in the fridge?"

He retrieved it, and Michael took a bottle of rum out of the pantry. He seemed to be regretting this hasty decision as Puck poured the liquid around the outside of the cake.

"We have a lighter?" he asked excitedly. Michael put a hand on his shoulder.

"No offense, son, but I think I trust Quinn more…" He took a long-handled lighter off of the counter and handed it over. "Do the honors, Miss Fabray?"

He, of course, shut his eyes as she clicked the switch one, twice, three times – and the pudding burst into light. Isaac flipped the light switch, and they sat watching the blue heat envelop the pudding. Outside, the snow fell heavy and thick. Quinn tried not to glance at the woman across the table, and told herself the glistening on Rachel's cheeks was just a trick of the light.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Sorry if I confused anyone because they ate ham for dinner…I know most Jews don't, but I envision Rachel, Isaac and Puck to be kind of lax in their Judaism. Plus, one of my friends eats bacon and she's Jewish…so I just thought some Jews ate pork? I guess I just have weird acquaintances.

Rachel volunteered to do dishes, and Quinn guessed that her desire to take on a pile of plates was not because she loved to clean, but because she needed time to think. The men were gathered in the living room, watching the game. Michael had wanted to help his daughter, but decided against it after a glance at her morose expression.

This shift left Quinn sitting at the table, unsure of whether to join the football-watching brigade or to try and talk to Rachel.

Since this was as good of a time as any, she tentatively sidled up next to the brunette and began drying the dishes.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

"Uh. You doing okay?" She winced. _What a terrible question_.

"Yes, I'm all right."

Silence again. Quinn didn't know if she was getting the silent treatment because Rachel was frustrated, or if Rachel was legitimately mad at her.

Though she trusted her own judgment about the situation, she knew that the woman next to her may not understand.

"Times Square, huh?" she began tentatively. "That's a big accomplishment. Are you going to make up a song and sing it like we did our senior year? Because I'm pretty sure nothing can top that."

A ghost of a smile, maybe, but otherwise Rachel remained impassive.

"What are you singing for New Year's Rockin' Eve? Anything I know?"

But this only seemed to make the brown eyes glisten again.

"Rachel, talk to me?"

"Quinn, what am I to you?" the brunette asked softly. The question startled her.

"I..."

"Look, I understand if you don't want to go. I guess I was just expecting you to. I thought you would like to go with me after everything we've shared in the last few weeks. I know it's a big commitment to spend the weekend with my dads and I, but..."

Quinn sighed. "Commitment is the word that scares me, I think."

"Why?"

"Rachel, we've talked about this."

"But not really, Quinn." her voice was rising, and Quinn swore that Puck turned around for a quick second to look at them. Rachel's brown eyes locked on the hazel ones. "Explain?"

"I'm hesitant to start anything too serious with you, Rachel, because part of me hates commitment. And that part of me hasn't really known what it wants for years, and has been fucked over, so I'm not really that optimistic when it comes to relationships." She felt anger rising and she felt so _ridiculous_ discussing this over dirty dishes in their whispered voices.

"I've been hurt too, you know," Rachel hissed. "By you, even, if you'll remember. But I think we've both changed enough, even though that old attraction is there from high school, nothing else really remains of that twisted relationship we had. I know it, you know it too. So what's holding you back from… I don't know, thinking I want to spend time with you, or coming to New York with me, or plain old _sharing a bed_ with me when I was at your apartment?"

Quinn blushed and mumbled something about chivalry.

"Oh, bullshit. You're afraid of your feelings because you don't understand them."

"And you _do_?" Now it was Quinn's turn to have her voice rise ominously, but she was drowned out by a cheer in the living room – the Browns had scored, and Michael had his head in his hands as Isaac and Puck were slapping each other on the back.

"Quinn, I don't know how you feel about me. I wish I did. Maybe that's a starting point for me to figure out where to go from here. But I would like to move forward. Just know that. I enjoy spending time with you, I _definitely_ enjoy when that time involves little to no clothing. How many times do I have to say that, Quinn? You are important to me. You're my friend. I want you to be more but only if you're comfortable."

Quinn couldn't shake the thought that Rachel was going to up and leave one day. She saw it, clearly – allowing herself to let go and trust a relationship, and then getting stabbed in the back. Waking up in an apartment that they shared to find Rachel had run off with someone. It wasn't a pretty thought, and it wasn't that she didn't trust Rachel – it was just that she needed to prepare herself for the worst in case it came.

A soft hand caressed the side of her cheek. "I'm sorry if I've been making things complicated. I just love spending time with you, you know? I saw you again that night in the hospital and all my old feelings came flooding back."

"Mine too," Quinn said as she stared at the dishes. "I thought…I didn't think they would be this strong, and that they would catch me so fast. I just…thought we'd have dinner and catch up…but I didn't realize how much I still felt for you. It scares me."

"I know, but isn't it nice that we're together again? You're one of the only people I have in Columbus. I need you around to keep me sane. Please don't feel like I don't need you in my life, okay?" Rachel kissed her forehead softly.

Quinn was trying not to cry at this completely unwarranted display of affection. It was just what she needed to hear, so why couldn't she accept it? _I don't deserve her_, she thought. She picked at the leftover ham on the bone absentmindedly as she tried not to burst into tears. A huge chunk fell off.

"This ham bone represents my life," she said sadly as the remainders fell over on the plate and some splattered to the floor. "Falling apart and smelling faintly of alcohol."

Rachel tilted her chin up. "You're not a damn ham bone. Talk to me."

Quinn popped the piece of ham in her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Those chocolate brown eyes were boring into hers, stealing her breath, forcing her to speak. "I love you, Rachel," she said thickly through her wet eyes and mouth full of pork.

"I love you too, Quinn. Of course I do." Rachel pulled her close. "I've loved you for a long time. I just didn't know you felt the same way until recently. I think I always will love you."

"I hope so," said the blonde as she swallowed her ham.

"And don't you dare think I'd up and leave you," Rachel said softly. "I know we live in two separate worlds with our careers, but I'm willing to work it through if you are. Okay?"

Quinn nodded, feeling all of a sudden overwhelmed by her feelings for this woman. _Willing to work it through if you are._

"I want to work it through with you," she said. A simple statement, but she meant it.

"I know you've been hurt, Quinn. I have too. But like your favorite song, right? 'Love is lookin' for you.' Well, I'm right here, love. I found you finally. We don't have to put labels on anything yet – we're just together. Quinn and Rachel. Moving forward as a pair. I've got your back, okay? We'll take care of each other. I'm starting a new life, and I've got you by my side, right?" She started humming the song from "Annie" that Daddy Warbucks and the little redhead orphan sing to each other at the end.

"_I don't need sunshine now to turn my skies to bluueeee_," Rachel said, her eyes smiling into Quinn's. "Come on, I know you know it."

"_I don't need anything but you,"_ Quinn finished quietly. Rachel hugged her again.

"Come on now. Cheer up, okay? Or I'll sing you that song from 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.' It's Christmas, let's celebrate." She tried pulling Quinn to the living room, but the blonde held her back.

"Rachel?"

"Mm?"

"I'll go."

"What?"

"New York. I'll go."

"Really?" Rachel's face was a mixture of shock and pure, unbridled delight. Quinn smiled back at her, and Rachel pulled her into the tightest hug she had probably ever received, then kissed her with such passion that her knees nearly gave way.

"Dad! Daddy!" Rachel called. They turned. "Do you mind having one more guest on your trip to New York with me?"

Their smiles said it all. Puck stood and gave Quinn an air high-five, and Rachel beamed at her as they walked, arm in arm, to join the football festivities in the living room. The three men rose for hugs, then squeezed back on the couch together – apparently, football games were best watched while shoulder-to-shoulder with each other. Quinn and Rachel shared the sofa, and Quinn smiled as soft hands lazily played with her hair.

Ten minutes later, a winter weather advisory blared across the screen.

"Fuck that," said Puck as a computerized voice declared a "Level 3 Snow Emergency" to be in effect until 4 a.m. "I'm not staying out until four. Isaac, my man? I'm crashing here tonight, okay?"

"We all need more beer, then," Isaac said good-naturedly. Michael giggled next to him – apparently the entire couch was tipsy.

"Quinn, you should stay, too." Rachel's face was creased with worry. "Please, I don't want you driving at 4 a.m. through the snow. Can you just sleep here for the night?"

"Like I could say no," Quinn said as she stooped to pick up Ian McKellen and buried her nose in his soft fur.

At halftime, they all relocated to the basement. Quinn smiled inwardly as she remembered Rachel's disaster of a party from their junior year. The stage was still there, along with some of Rachel's awards, signed programs, et cetera. Isaac opened the mini-fridge under the bar and produced another bottle of wine. Quinn was almost positive he had been buzzed the whole night, but decided she didn't care as she began indulging in the wine.

Isaac was now pulling his husband up on the makeshift stage and giving Puck directions as to what song to pull up on the karaoke machine.

Out of nowhere, the short bespectacled man had produced a cowboy hat, and placed it on his husband's head as the beginning notes of "Hillbilly Bone" by Blake Shelton and Trace Adkins twanged through the speakers.

"Welcome to your halftime show, ladies and gentlemen!" he hollered as he started in to the first verse.

Of course, being a Miranda Lambert fan and a country fan in general, Quinn knew the song. Her idol's husband Blake sure had an interesting way with words in his songs, and this was no exception.

By the first chorus of "_We all got a hillbilly bone down deep inside_,"Michael was getting into the groove and added a low but loud bass line to harmonize with his husband's. Puck was banging his hands on the stage like a drum set, Rachel was giggling behind the bar, and the cats were at the top of the stairs, watching. The Berry men sounded good together. Quinn wondered if they did this often, or only while drunk.

She would have to see that karaoke was a more frequent occurrence around here, because "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" was Puck's next pick, and watching two grown gay men sing it had her doubled over laughing.

The rest of the football game wasn't as important to her as the time she spent with her newfound friends, and the comfortable feeling of having an arm wrapped around Rachel. She was content, happy, feeling loved and secure with a beautiful girl next to her on the basement couch and two cats on her lap.

The wine probably helped with that warm and safe feeling, too.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Cute family Christmas time! I hope you all liked it, and like the story so far. Thanks so much for hanging in with me! This is some more character development – we'll get to Times Square soon, and then probably an epilogue.

-Raggy

Rachel opened her eyes the next morning and smiled at the four sleeping people around her - Quinn, who was laying on her side and had an arm over Rachel's stomach. Puck, curled up in the easy chair. And her dads, sleeping in front of the TV on a pile of blankets. Both cats were downstairs, as well, curled up by the stage.

Rachel detached herself from Quinn's grip and quietly walked upstairs. She had a small headache, but nothing major - and nothing coffee couldn't fix!

She hadn't made a protein shake like she used to in high school for quite some time. But sure enough, there were bananas on a bowl in the counter and flaxseed oil in the pantry. She threw a few more ingredients into the blender, dumped coffee grounds into Mr. Coffee, and set both to begin their duties while she scrolled through her emails and Twitter updates. The world of celebrities never took a break, even on Christmas. She texted her agent to let her know all three tickets would be accounted for on New Year's and their travel accommodations settled.

- _But if you can score some good hotel rooms this late for my fathers, I'd be much obliged_, she added as an afterthought. She wasn't sure how awkward it would be for them to sleep in her apartment when Quinn was over. Besides, she was _dying_ for some alone time.

As the coffee cooled, she sipped her smoothie and stared at the blanket of snow that covered their small backyard. There were easily four or five inches of solid white trouble out there, and she had a moment of panic for her poor rental car and hoped to God that it would pull out of the driveway with no squealing tires or heart-wrenching moments of terror.

Her dads joined her half an hour later, both taking some of the still-warm coffee and gaping at the snow. Since Christmas had fallen on a Sunday that year, Michael had Monday off. Isaac claimed he would go to work when he felt like it.

To celebrate his extra day of holidays, Michael was going through his usual check of the pantry in case they were snowed in - nothing gave the man more energy than thinking about disaster. He threw an empty waterbottle at his husband as the shorter man disappeared outside.

"Damn it, put a coat on!" he hollered, before Rachel shushed him and Gloria began batting the bottle across the floor.

"Honey, I think this might be the Fit's last winter," said Isaac sadly as he returned inside with his newspaper. "Seriously, with snow this high and temperatures like this? It's practically begging me to be retired as it sits there." Their 2012 Honda Fit had served them well, but was definitely past its prime. And it definitely was not made for climbing the mounds of snow that Lima Public Works left on the streets sometimes. Isaac's daily commute was practically a hospital trip waiting to happen.

"I think we've got enough to buy a new car if we sell it," Michael responded. "Let's _please_ get something with more reliable tires and a little more bulk. I don't like feeling like a leaf in the wind every time we get on the highway."

Rachel smiled. "Want to make a deal, you two?"

Michael looked wary. "A deal?"

"I'll trade you."

"Trade what, honey? Are you even making sense? Are you sleep talking again? Do we need to take you to a doctor?"

"No, Daddy. The car." She shrugged. "I know yours isn't going to last forever, so when I'm done driving back and forth to NYC you can take the one I just bought. It's used, but it's a good car. And it's a little more sturdy than the Fit."

"Honey, no," said Isaac. "I'm not going to take that car from you."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a damn Hanukkah present, Isaac Hiram Berry, and you better take it or I'll have a tantrum. I know I probably make more than either of you, and if all my thousands of dollars can afford me easy living in New York, I know I'll be set for a long time here in Ohio. Even if the movie isn't as lucrative as _Chicago_. So it's a gift, and you need it because Daddy and I would lose our shit if you end up back in the hospital."

Her dad smiled at her, then turned to his husband in fake exasperation. "Where does she get that dirty mouth?"

The corners of Michael's mouth turned up. "I don't fucking know."

Rachel giggled, and then tilted her head to look at them.

"Seriously, I'll be driving a few blocks at most, and I can always walk too. ...and I'll probably be spending a lot of time with Quinn, so if the Fit finally blows up I can borrow her car until I buy a new one..."

"Well, we can take the Civic up to New York, because we'll need to head home on the night of the 1st," said Isaac. "We can take some of your things home with us so your car isn't so full. Plus, with Puck and Quinn in your vehicle, it would be a full ride with us." He looked at Michael. "I know you hate my driving, anyway."

"Not true."

"Sure it is. Plus, if you drive, I can work on my video blog about the pudding and maybe start a new one about New Year's Eve." Isaac's eyes shifted to Rachel. She recognized this particular glance as the "hungry journalist stare." "You have wireless at the apartment?"

"I sure do, Dad."

He nodded and drained his coffee. "Another blog, another buck!" he called as he opened the refrigerator. "Now, we still have guests so what say we whip up something fancy? A breakfast casserole, or some nice Belgian waffles? I've never used that waffle maker, but it should be easy enough, right?"

"Let me take care of that," said an amused voice, and Quinn poked her head around the corner.

"Good morning!" Rachel bounded over to her and gave her a hug. Her fathers followed suit.

"Sweet Lord, you're all morning people," said Quinn with a groan as three Berrys embraced her. Rachel squeezed her even harder, and got a sweet little kiss in return.

"Waffles, yes?" Quinn shook off her attackers and began raiding their kitchen.

Rachel and Isaac both hovered over the blonde as she began mixing up the batter. Isaac because he was curious, and Rachel because she wanted to be near Quinn. Plus, she had to make sure that no real animal products made their way into the waffles.

When the first two batches were done and warming in the oven, Puck appeared (his nose had no doubt told his stomach it was time to get up). Isaac, ever wishing to be helpful, put out a wide array of toppings and some cereals.

The waffles were slightly less fluffy than the waffles in the picture on the box. "Vegan ingredients," Quinn grumbled under her breath as Rachel ruminated upon this aloud.

"They still taste good," the brunette said, picking up one with her bare hands and ripping off a piece.

The waffles were delicious, and they had all stuffed themselves once again into a happy stupor. Puck said farewell soon after that, and it was just Quinn and Rachel left at the kitchen table. Michael was doing dishes, and Isaac was on his laptop and phone at the same time, the _Lima Times_ in his hand and the television on.

Rachel was full of energy, and Quinn seemed to have woken up a little.

"Hey Quinn."

"Mm?"

"Want to go take a walk?"

"..._what_?"

"In the snow - come on, it'll be fun! We can walk the cats." Quinn raised both eyebrows at this. "No, just kidding on that. What else are we gonna do?"

"Rachel, are you that intent on pulling me out of my comfort zone lately?"

She had to admit, it _was_ kind of fun.

"Come on, Quinn. You have warm boots and you can borrow some of my clothes. It's good for us - we need to walk off all of those carbs."

The hazel eyes did not look pleased. But after Rachel ran to her room and brought down an array of thermal underwear, socks, and hats from her old bedroom, it was hard for Quinn to say no.

Ever overprotective, Michael made sure they were properly insulated against the chill before they walked outside. The sun reflected off of the fresh snow, temporarily blinding them both. It was cold, but not unbearable, and Rachel slipped her gloved hand into Quinn's.

"I love you," she said. Since they had first said those three little words the night before, she had been itching for a chance to say it again, to hear Quinn say it back.

"I love you too." Quinn leaned over to kiss her cheek. Rachel smiled.

"Hey!"

"Hey what?"

"Tell me more about your job, like about what you teach."

"Hmmm. Well, I'm teaching a segment of Beginning Acting this semester. It's a pretty popular class, even for non-majors, so they added another section of it. A more experienced professor teaches the other class, so I'm a little nervous."

"What do you cover?"

"Oh, the basics, really. How to make a character believable, to get into his or her head. Some basic set layout, some acting warmups. And they recite personal monologues and poetry, and will practice how to convey feeling in what they say. You know, all of that silly acting stuff."

"And you're working on a musical too?"

"Yeah," Quinn replied. "'Once Upon a Mattress.' It's a good show, and I'm directing – so I'm only teaching two classes this semester." She sighed. "I'm nervous to be directing the big show, but they asked me to, and the students in it are very talented. So I think I'll be all right."

"I'll come see it!" Rachel squeezed her hand. "If I'm not busy, okay?"

The blonde laughed. "Yeah, okay."

"Hey, I mean it! I'd love to come see the show."

"Really?"

"Quinn, of _course_ I would. You're talking to a Broadway actress here – anything and everything to do with theatre, I'm in. Plus!" Rachel elbowed her. "I'm still getting used to this whole 'ex-cheerleader turned drama professor' thing you've got going on. It's fascinating. I want to get to know that side of you, honestly."

Quinn laughed. "The messy office and precocious college kids? Absolutely."

"Well, that," said Rachel, pausing for a moment to watch some kids pack snow onto their snow fort. "But also why you wanted to end up being a teacher."

"Hey, I'm the poster child for the arts and how they help people get through hard times. I had professors in college who really saw that in me." She shrugged. "Glee helped me get through my pregnancy and through my struggles on the social ladder. But at Yale? I didn't have anyone. I was lonely and I was really starting to come to terms with my sexuality, so that added to the anxiety I already had. So many people in that drama department gave a lot of themselves to help me and other kids out. It really inspired me to want to do the same."

Rachel nodded. It made sense, even though it pained her to think of lonely Quinn struggling at college.

"I'm glad you're happy now," she said, wrapping her arm around the taller woman's waist and giving her a one-armed hug.

"Well, what about you, then?" Quinn asked. "You've got a fancy new life, too. Tell me about New York."

"This is different, you've _seen_ New York."

"Yeah, but you do _commercials _and _interviews _and you're all fancy and _faaamooous."_ To accentuate the point, Rachel's phone went off in her pocket. She glanced at it.

"It's just Jen, my agent."

"Right, you have a damn agent too, Berry. I want to know it all. Tell me about your agent."

Rachel shook her head. Describing her agent?

This walk would take longer than she expected.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: This is a short one, but I hope you all like it! Thanks for reading. :)

They both returned to the Berry home, cheeks and noses red from the cold. Quinn was all smiles – talking to Rachel had lifted her mood, and she felt a little better going to New York after hearing some of the details about her life there. It didn't seem so far away now, and Rachel was starting to sound less like a distant celebrity. Quinn was beginning to feel like she could actually belong somewhere, a feeling that kind of scared of her as much as it thrilled her.

It was nice to talk to Rachel about her own life, as well. She didn't often have someone to chat with about her job, first of all. But she knew that the brunette really _cared_ about her. And that was something she hadn't felt in a while. Rachel wanted to see the spring musical. Rachel wanted Quinn to come to New York.

And Quinn definitely wanted to see Rachel as much as possible when they would be in Columbus together. They would be so close, so soon…

Now, sitting on the couch with Rachel's arm around her and playing Scrabble with Michael…it felt right. Things felt like they were going to be good for a while.

Except for the fact that Michael Berry was killer at Scrabble, and she was losing.

Rachel was hopelessly behind, but still optimistic that her letter tray would produce something magical. Quinn kept taking the lead from Michael only to lose it again, and the stress of it was both exhilarating and infuriating.

When all was said and done, Quinn ran out of letters first, though her score was seven points lower than Michael's. But he and his daughter had tiles left – so when Quinn subtracted points from his score and from Rachel's and added them to her own, the match ended in a tie. Quinn and Michael each had 176, and Rachel had just broken triple digits with a score of 108.

"Well played," Michael said with a grin as he shook Quinn's hand. She only glared at him.

"I'll beat you fair and square next time," she vowed. "Bring that up to NYC with you."

"Well, I just enjoyed spending time with both of you," Rachel piped up. "Must everything be a competition?"

Quinn could only stare.

She knew she should get back to Columbus, especially since she was taking an impromptu vacation all of a sudden. But she didn't really _need_ to go back to the office, and she didn't really _need_ to be back _right this second…_

She had caught Rachel watching her with a smile on her face several times as they folded up all the blankets downstairs. Each time their eyes met, the brunette looked away quickly.

"Okay, what's up?" Quinn asked with a grin.

"Nothing," Rachel said innocently as she rearranged the pillows on the couch and sat down primly. "You're just nice to look at is all."

"Rachel?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for inviting me to New Year's. I'm sorry I upset you last night when I was on the fence about going." She sank down on the couch and put her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"Don't mention it, okay?" She kissed the side of Quinn's head. "I think I understand. I know what you were thinking."

Quinn sighed. "Okay. But thank you."

They sat in silence for a while.

"You have to go soon, huh?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah." Quinn lifted her head up. "We're leaving when? The 31st?"

"Well, it would probably make more sense to leave the 30th, because I'll need to be in Times Square relatively early for time check and all that, and we do _not_ want to get caught in traffic."

Quinn nodded. "You and Puck will come get me, right?"

"Right, because I'm coming straight to Columbus on my way back. I think I'll give my dads a spare key so they can get into my apartment and put a few things away… But anyway. We'll get you and be in NYC before too late. And then whenever we get up on the 1st, we can leave…or we can stay longer…"

"You'll be getting me early on Friday then, huh?"

Rachel winced in sympathy. "Yeah. You and Puck can sleep on the way up."

"I plan to." Quinn squeezed her hand. "Well, all right. I definitely should get home and do some work then."

"I can't wait to see you already," Rachel said quietly. "I'm nervous to be singing in Times Square. It's a big step. But…you were with me for another big step in New York, so I'm confident I'll do all right. I'm glad you're going to be there. I mean it."

"I know you do." Quinn leaned forward and brushed the dark hair back, kissing Rachel softly. "Thank you," she said again.

"Don't thank me just yet," Rachel said teasingly as she wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck and pulled her into another, more passionate, kiss.

"Can I thank you _now_?" the blonde asked breathlessly, her heart racing as they pulled apart.

"Mmm….nope." Rachel took Quinn's face in her hands and kissed her again.

"How about now?" She was beginning to like this game.

Another kiss. "Nope. 

"Now?"

Yet another. "Huh-uh."

"…and now?"

Rachel grinned. "Yeah, okay."

"What am I thanking you for, again?"

"You're hopeless." The brunette stood and offered a hand. "Come on. I don't want you in trouble at OWU for flying off to New York and not doing your job!"

"I'll tell them it's research," Quinn said halfheartedly as she let Rachel pull her up and they ascended the stairs. She grabbed her small bag of clothes, trying not to feel too sad that she was leaving.

Michael pulled her into a tight hug as she said goodbye, and she ruffled the two cats' fur as she opened the door.

"You need any leftovers?" Michael called. "I don't want them to spoil here…"

"No, thank you. I really do appreciate your hospitality. Tell Isaac thank you, as well, okay?"

"Of course. Please let us know when you get home. And we'll see you soon, so don't look so glum!"

"I am not _glum_._" _He smiled and waved as he disappeared upstairs.

"See you in a few days, then?" Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I can't wait," said the shorter woman softly. "Let me know when you get home?"

"Man, you and your daddy are so alike. Of course I will.

Another kiss, this one the longest of them all, and Quinn was out the door and in her car.

She lit a cigarette, because _damn it_ she was not about to _cry_, and found Bobby Verne in her phone. But the call went to voicemail, so she left him a message and tried not to hit any other drivers as she scrolled through her iPod.

Miranda Lambert's music always made things feel right to her. There was a song for her every mood and feeling, it seemed, and Quinn felt like she could definitely bond with the singer if they ever met. Despite the anger and vengeance that tinged some of Miranda's earlier songs (and struck a chord with an earlier Quinn), the singer had matured in the last ten years. Her albums weren't as frequent and she spent more time with her family than on tour, but there was still a fire in her. Pain and heartache from her past, mixed with the safety and security she now felt with her family and someone she loved.

Yeah, Quinn could definitely connect with her favorite singer.

If she ever met her, maybe they'd talk. After Quinn finished shitting herself because she met Miranda Lambert.

The drive home was clogged, as was to be expected for the day after Christmas, and a drive that usually took an hour and 45 minutes took almost two and a half. Quinn was glad to be safely in her driveway after a near collision when she merged onto I-270 and more brake lights than she ever wanted to see again.

Jean Valjean was immediately winding his way around her legs when she stepped into the door and put her bags down. She scooped him up and carried him into the kitchen, where she immediately noticed the lack of food in his bowl.

"What have you been up to, runt?" she teased as she scratched his belly. He was purring away, and stretched his paws in the air. She turned up the heat, smiling down at him. "Yeah, maybe I missed you too, okay?"

She picked up her phone and texted Rachel one-handed. And not sooner had the message sent than her phone began ringing. It was Bobby.

"Hello, sir."

"Hey, Quinn! Merry Christmastime. I got your message – so you had a good weekend?"

She laughed and reached in the fridge for a Diet Coke. She would need some caffeine to get through this.

"Where do I start?"


	28. Chapter 28

The Ohio Wesleyan drama department still had a few months before "Once Upon a Mattress" premiered. But the frantic way that the play's director was working, one might have thought it was opening night tomorrow. Quinn had thrown herself into her work with more than her usual amount of enthusiasm, easily making up for the time she was going to be missing.

Bobby found her on a ladder, painting a castle piece, on Wednesday afternoon.

"Hey!" he called up, his deep Brooklyn voice booming over the stage.

She leaned over the set and grinned at him. "Hey, yourself! Hold on!" She climbed down, set her paint on the floor, and gave him a hug. "No worries, I don't have any on my fingers. I think. How's the journalism department?"

"Thriving, you know." He grinned. "I'm teaching a summer session and we just ended early, so I was going to see what you're up to for lunch."

"Nothing, really. Is this my invitation to hang out? Professor to professor?"

"Hey, journalists don't "hang out." We _interview_, dollface."

This got a laugh from Quinn. "Let me grab my coat." She turned the stereo off and pulled her jacket off of the door handle. "Where's the date?"

"Subway? I'm craving a meatball sandwich."

"Oooh, romantic." He chuckled.

"Please, like we can afford anything else on a teacher's salary."

"That's true."

They wandered out of the drama center and through the snowy campus.

"So, New York!" Bobby said brightly. "You're leaving...what, Friday?"

"Hence the fact that I'm working my ass off, yes. But I'm sure I'll be able to do some emailing and such when I get to Rachel's. I just needed to do some of the set work, since the castle pieces are a bit extensive."

"Now come on, Quinn, I don't care about _work."_He elbowed her. "I'm sure the show will be great. I don't know you that well yet, but I think this woman makes you happy. So, am I right? Are you happy to be going to NYC?"

"I'm kind of scared, you know?" she said as they crossed the street. He was right, they didn't know each other too well yet. But she liked talking to him, and felt like she could trust him. Besides, she needed a few more friends around campus to hang out with. "It's _New York_. And I'm the honored guest of a pretty big Broadway star, and I'm going to be right in the middle of the biggest NYE party in the States."

"Hey, I know all about NYC. I'd love to come with ya. Brandon, the guy I've been seeing for a while? He _loves_ Broadway. I'd be a hero in his eyes if I took him there. Maybe we can all have dinner sometime when Rachel's in Ohio and they can talk about it."

"Of course, I'd like that."

"But forgive me, Quinn," he said, holding the door for her as they entered the Subway. "This isn't about me. So you're happy but you're nervous, huh?"

They took their places in line. The smell of fresh-baked bread assailed Quinn's nose, and her stomach rumbled. She hadn't realized how hungry she was.

"Huh?" she asked, momentarily distracted by the sight of all the ingredients.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah. Like…it's New Year's. And the party and everything, whatever. I can handle the people, I think. Her dads will be there, too, and there will be a lot of security so they're going to make sure we're safe."

"That's good."

"Right, but…" she sighed. "You're supposed to kiss someone on New Year's! And the person I want to kiss is going to be surrounded by cameras, and there was already a picture of her online grabbing on to me when she was drunk, so people already think we're dating…"

"She's not out, right? Professionally."

"No. And I honestly don't know if she ever will be…or what the consequences would be if she did. There are still some people out there who really bash celebs when they come out."

"That's too bad." They were to the counter now, and the conversation paused as they ordered their subs. Bobby took a footlong Meatball Marinara, which looked good – but Quinn didn't quite trust the meatballs. She opted for turkey and cheese with a small collection of fresh veggies, and elbowed the handsome professor out of the way when he tried to pay.

"I owe you, remember?" She handed the cashier her card, and they took the subs and their drinks and took a table by the window. The meal began quietly, save for the rustling of the paper and the growling of Quinn's stomach.

"Do you think Rachel has thought about this?" Bobby asked thickly around a mouth of meatballs. Quinn was very tempted to make a joke about penises, but decided this wasn't the time. "Would she be okay coming out?"

"I…I don't know."

"Sound like ya need to have a conversation," he said, eyeing her curiously.

Quinn hung her head back and let out an exaggerated groan.

"All this talking and discussing. God, it's hard being gay. Two girls are like double the feelings"

"Tell me about it, sister. Guys ain't much better."

"So anyhow," Quinn said hurriedly, wanting to get off the subject as soon as possible. "This Brandon fellow. Tell me about him."

Bobby waggled a finger at her. "I see what you're doing, you're changing the subject. Not fair."

"It's _totally_ fair. I want to hear about him."

"All right," he said with a wide grin. "You win."

Without her fathers around, it was _boring_. Rachel was feeling anxious, and was ready to be done with New Year's so she could move into her apartment and start working again.

But it was probably also partially because she missed Quinn.

It was kind of funny. They had been apart for ten years, talking rarely but never actually _seeing_ each other, and now they were apart for two days and Rachel missed her.

And loved her.

Definitely.

She was daydreaming about what Quinn's school must be like as her agent went over the plan for New Year's for the thousandth time, sitting at her kitchen table and doodling on an old copy of _The Lima Times._

"Remember, you're going on _after_ Carrie Underwood, that changed, okay? Ryan's going to introduce you and you're going straight into "Don't Rain on my Parade."

"Uh-huh."

"And then you'll stop and give tribute to Barbra before launching into that other song, that 'Love is Lookin' for You' one. It's not really your kind of song, but I know there's some _girl_…"

"Hey now, she's important to me." Rachel had filled Jen in on the basics as far as who was coming – Introducing Quinn as her "high school friend" wasn't going to fly with the agent unless she knew what was _really_ up. Rachel just wasn't that transparent.

"I know." Jen's tone softened. "But as your agent, I've got to say this. You've got to be careful, though, dedicating it to her. Okay?"

"Damn it, part of me really just wants to say I love her and let the world know." Rachel slammed her palm on the table. "I don't want to hide it."

Her agent sighed. "I understand. But coming out publicly could create a lot of backlash, Rachel. Your career is taking a different turn, that's true, but Hollywood is a little different than Broadway. You'll be in the spotlight even more as a movie star in the making. Would she be ready for that? Would _you_?"

"I don't know. And how about you? How does an agent deal with her client coming out? Although, you have Kurt as a guide…"

"Kurt was different, because he was already out. But he's faced some challenges, that's for sure. As for you, God knows I don't want to deal with any men trying to 'turn you' or 'change your mind' or harass you." Rachel shivered. She hadn't thought of that.

"And you need to think about Quinn, and what it would be like for her. Being pulled into the spotlight like that would change her life. As would her being outed."

The actress felt her stomach drop. That was one of the things she didn't want to think about. Quinn seemed so nervous about how life would be in the spotlight…she was almost positive it would turn her away.

Tears pooled in her eyes as the silence seemed to roar in her ears.

"You wanted to kiss her at midnight, didn't you?" Jen had again dropped her voice, and Rachel felt like she was talking to a friend rather than an agent.

"I was really thinking about it," Rachel said tearfully. "She loves the song, it's kind of romantic in a very public, 'I'm singing you this in Times Square' kind of way…it's New Year's, Jen, and I feel like I can't kiss who I want to."

"I know."

"And I'm scared of what might happen, you know? With my career, and hers…her private life will just be gone, out the window. And I'm worried what will happen to our relationship with the added stress of being in the spotlight."

"I know."

Hot tears were now cascading freely down her face. "Damn it, it's almost 2023. Why is life still difficult for gay people?"

"I ask myself that every day." Jen was almost whispering. "When my girlfriend asks me when she's going to be able to come to work parties with me."

"…what?"

"Yeah."

"I had no idea…"

"I didn't really have an idea about you, either, Rachel. But it's our careers. Fuck my career, you know how many times I've listened to some bigoted idiot talk about finances and traditional family values at concerts with me? It's enough to make me sick. I'm surprised Jill is still with me after all this shit, I really am."

Rachel nodded, almost numb, processing this new info. Then, a thought. "Bring her on New Year's!"

"What? No, I couldn't do that... there are going to be so many people."

"Hey, we'll do it. We can come out together. Agent and…agented?"

This got a chuckle, and they both were silent for a while. Rachel felt closer to her agent than she ever had before. The other woman must have felt it, too.

"Are we bonding?" Jen asked. "This is terrible."

"So is the closet, boss." Rachel smiled through her tears and sniffed heavily. "I want to meet your girlfriend."

"I want to meet your…Quinnfriend."

"Okay. This may be a good idea. I'll talk about it with her."

"All right, but no promises. Me too, I'll talk to her."

"Goodbye, Jen."

"Goodbye, Rachel."


	29. Chapter 29

Quinn had almost prepared herself for an early-morning onslaught of energy from Rachel.

Almost.

They were picking her up at 8:00 a.m. for the drive to New York, which wasn't really _that_ early, but Quinn had spent her night tossing and turning, unable to sleep, letting her mind fill with worries and doubts. It was part of a lasting anxiety disorder, she knew that. She had stopped taking the medicine after she found how calming teaching was for her soul, after she had found other things to occupy her mind besides her past.

But tonight, she was worrying about everything - from her relationship with her mom, to thoughts of being crushed in a crowded Times Square, endure to whether or not the cat would chew through an electrical wire and die.

This last thought got her out of bed at around 2:30 to find Jean Valjean and carry him back to bed with her. He was asleep on her coat, on top of the kitchen table, and had no doubt shed all over it. She took him with her and slid into the sheets, nuzzling her nose into his soft black and orange fur.

He kneaded his paws happily against the fabric of her shirt, his pinpoints of claws stabbing her chest every few seconds. She stared off into the inky blackness of her room for a while, fighting off the worries by trying to play every Miranda song from her second album all the way through in her head.

She got to the fifth song before her thoughts drifted, and she fell asleep.

Her alarm went off at 7:00, but it wasn't until almost 7:30 that she was up and in the shower. She didn't even bother to blow-dry her hair. She dumped food into the kitten's bowl with her eyes half closed, and then clumsily filled a bigger one for him, to tide him over for the weekend. Luckily, her clothes were packed. Her still-wet hair practically froze to her head as she trudged out of the house in sweatpants and a fleece, feeling like warmed-over oatmeal.

Rachel was practically bouncing out of the driver's seat with excitement. Puck looked like he had just woken up, and was moving to let Quinn take the passenger seat. She motioned for him to sit back down and took the spot behind him, next to Rachel's two caged kitties.

"Hi!" The brunette's eyes were gleaming and she had waves of energy rolling off of her. Or maybe that was the effect of too little sleep. But Quinn swore she could see something radiating off of her.

"You sound like a foghorn," Puck mumbled. He was hugging a pillow to his chest. Quinn leaned forward to peck Rachel on the cheek, and she beamed even brighter. The energy waves were yellow.

"You need coffee, baby?"

"Ungh."

"Okay, we'll get you some. How is Jean?"

"Hnngh."

"Okay, tell me later. Puck, you want coffee too?"

"Unf." The rumble came from somewhere in the pillow.

The Corolla cruised onto the highway as Quinn forced her jaws to chew a bagel from Tim Horton's. Gloria and Ian got a few bites, too. Thankfully, Puck had turned NPR on, and Morning Edition kept Rachel's interests for a while.

"Can we play a car game?" she asked around 8:45.

Quinn and Puck pretended to be sleeping.

-

Quinn offered to drive the second leg - "It's a Toyota, after all!" - and Puck lounged in the back while Rachel took the passenger seat.

"I'm happy you're coming with me," she said simply, twining her fingers into Quinn's and kissing the back of her hand.

"Me too." Rachel detached her left hand and leaned over to stroke the blonde hair. It felt good, but Quinn reluctantly shook her off.

"Don't put me to sleep!" She grinned over at the pretty woman next to her. "Thank you, though."

"Thanks for coming. And for driving; I get tired of it sometimes."

"Hey, no need to thank me for accompanying you," Quinn said. She meant it, too. "You'll have to apologize to Jean Valjean, though. He's going to miss his mommy."

"How _is_ he?"

"He's wonderful. Really, I think he likes it inside. He's taken to stealing my magnets off of my fridge, though, so my things are all over the floor now."

"He steals _magnets?"_

"Yeah. You can come see him all the time."

Another megawatt grin. "Sure!"

"Uncle Puck will give him beer," came the call from the back. Rachel twisted her head around.

"Uncle Puck will _not._ You're a bad enough influence on my cats already, just look how you're spoiling them." Quinn glanced in her rearview. Puck had both of Rachel's cats on a pillow, on his lap, and was busy taking photos of them.

"They love it! You Tweet about them all the damn time, anyway. They're used to being in the spotlight." He caught the blonde's eye and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

She sighed. She _really_ wanted to pet those cats. Something had come over her. They looked so fluffy and cute.

She got her wish when Puck took over as driver and Rachel stayed in the passenger seat. Quinn sat in the back, the recipient of some very pushy feline attention.

_Pushy like a crowd_, she thought. _A crowd of cats. Much like there will be a crowd of_people_on New Year's. Chanting, singing, screaming. What if some creep tries to kiss Rachel on New Year's? Worse, what if RYAN SEACREST tries to kiss Rachel?_

The image was almost too funny. But luckily, the two cats were now trying to fight with each other as to which one would sit in the middle of Quinn's lap and which one would be hanging off the side. They distracted her wandering thoughts with some sharp claws in the leg. She tried not to cry out - not that Rachel and Puck would hear her, mind. They were too busy singing along to the radio to hear her grunts of agony.

_Fucking cats._

But it was a lie. She loved every minute of it.

Rachel was a terrible influence. They were going to be old cat ladies before she knew it.

She smiled at an image of herself, coming home to an apartment and being greeted by four or five huge, fat cats.

The image also included Rachel in some sort of American 1950s outfit, pulling a pie out of the oven in her high heels before coming over to kiss her wife hello.

Quinn flushed. Where the hell did _that_ come from?

"Wow, pie sounds good!" came an exclamation from Rachel. The back seat passenger almost jumped out of her skin. _Did I describe that out loud? Or can she read minds?_

But the brunette was pointing to a billboard for DeeDee's Dessert Dreams, which was apparently a restaurant specializing in pies and cakes.

"It's off this exit! Anyone hungry?"

Puck shrugged, but Quinn shook her head vehemently.

"I'm good."

She needed to get out of that damn car before she went crazy.

-

Finally, the sign for the state of New York greeted them, and they were coming to the end of their journey along I-78. Quinn watched, mouth agape, as the scenery around them filled with skyscrapers, taxis, and bustling people. The snow was dirty, the sky grey. But it was still so awe-inspiring. She was practically fogging up the passenger side window with her breath.

They dropped Puck off first, and he kissed them both on the cheek before disappearing into his building. Rachel squeezed Quinn's knee.

"Welcome back to New York, Ms. Fabray."

"Glad to be here," she said with a smile, and took the smaller hand in hers.

Rachel navigated her way through a few streets, and they came to a stop at a nice-looking apartment building. Quinn was still a little nervous to see the apartment, and tried to hide it as she shooed the cats into their crates and helped their owner gather her bags.

"Well, this is it," Rachel panted as they pushed open the door to her flat. She took the cats' crates and let them out so they could roam. Quinn spotted a couch and television and a spacious kitchen. Perhaps she would get a tour? But a pretty brunette stepped into her line of sight and wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist.

"My dads are staying the night in their hotel," she said softly. "So I've got you all to myself." Her voice had dropped, the silken, low syllables sending shivers down Quinn's spine. She pulled the taller woman against her, a hand sliding under the grey t-shirt and onto smooth skin.

Quinn wasn't sure, but she was now fairly certain that her tour of the house would begin with Rachel's bedroom.

If they made it that far.


	30. Chapter 30

After ten hours in the car, and then being very intimately introduced to Rachel's king-sized bed, Quinn didn't think she had any energy left.

But her stomach was growling angrily as she lay curled around the smaller, warm body next to her. She blushed as Rachel rolled over and laughed at her, eyes shining in the dim light of the bedroom.

"If you're hungry, let's go make something to eat. I could go for something, too."

Quinn kissed her nose. "Do you even have much to cook with?"

"Yep, some nonperishable things that shouldn't be too toxic." The brunette winked impishly and squeezed the taller woman's hand. "Come on, it's getting kind of late and you know we shouldn't eat carbs too soon before we go to bed."

"Who said anything about sleeping any time soon?" It was Quinn's turn to wink. "You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow and I want to make sure you're sufficiently relaxed..." She lightly ran her nails down Rachel's stomach, prompting a shiver and a squeal.

"_Don't_start anything again or we'll be in here all night."

"Is that so bad?" Though she detected a hint of mischief behind the innocent brown eyes, Quinn found herself being pushed out of bed.

"Okay, okay!" she said, pulling her t-shirt and sweats back on and venturing out into the hallway. The bright lights hurt her eyes for a moment after the darkness of the bedroom, but as she adjusted to the change in scenery, she could see the lay of the apartment. Across from Rachel's bedroom was the bathroom, and next to that a smaller room with a desk and a few bookshelves, and several large boxes that no doubt held plenty of other belongings. She supposed that there were usually quite a few more things around the house, but remembered how much they dragged up the stairs to the new apartment in Columbus.

The door from the hallway led immediately to the kitchen, and then the living room, where a chic black couch overlooked a window view of the street. Quinn was kneeling to examine Rachel's movie collection and pet the cats as the Broadway star came out of her room.

"Look at all these old fogie movies!"

"What?"

"Oh my God, you have musicals from every decade _except_during your own lifetime. How does that work?"

"You lie; I have plenty of modern movies." came the indignant voice from behind her.

"Uh-huh." Quinn suppressed a grin. "I think they're hiding somewhere. Or Puck borrowed them."

"Probably that option, actually. He's pretty bad at returning my things. Hey, I'm actually pretty hungry. What do you want?"

"I think you mean 'what will you cook for me?'"

"Well, if you insist..."

Rachel's pantry and refrigerator were pretty barren, but there was some salad in the crisper next to some tortillas, and she found a can of refried beans and some rice in the back of a cupboard. So, under the scrutiny of a diehard vegan, she began assembling the ingredients for burritos.

Amazingly, there was even some cheese in the fridge ("Puck makes me keep it, and I feed it to the cats if it goes stale."). So, half an hour later, they were giggling at the counter together when Rachel discovered how bad she was at rolling burritos.

"This is disgusting," she giggled as she pulled out her phone and took a picture.

"Twitter does _not_ need to know how gross you are," Quinn said, admiring her own perfect creation.

"Who says I'm Tweeting anything?" Rachel asked innocently. But the other woman swore she saw the trademark blue bird on the iPhone screen.

They sat at the counter, facing the TV as an old _Law and Order_rerun played out over 54 inches of HD plasma television.

"I'm coming over to watch TV on that thing," Quinn said through a mouthful of rice and beans.

"As long as it's what _I_want to watch."

Quinn grumbled, but she didn't care what the hell was on that magnificent screen as long as she was with Rachel.

"Besides," the brunette continued, "I hope you're over quite often."

"I think I will be." The brown eyes smiled, and a soft kiss brushed Quinn's cheek. "And you're always welcome at my little place. Perhaps your cats and my little foster kitten will be friends?" She looked over at the cats, who were sniffing at the stove. "You'd like that, huh? Right guys?"

Gloria yowled in response, and Ian jumped on the stove to get a whiff of the beans and rice. Rachel clapped her hands loudly and yelled at him, prompting an apologetic meow as he jumped down. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the blonde.

"Come on, you can't tell me he's a foster." Brown eyes bored into hazel, and Quinn deflated.

"Okay, okay. _My_kitten, _my_ little ball of fluff, _my_bread thief."

Rachel smiled.

"_There_we go."

The few dishes there were got quickly washed and put away, and the leftovers were stored in the fridge. It was now past 8 p.m. Quinn sat on the couch with the cats, feeling suddenly awkward and unsure of herself. She hadn't really brought anything to _do_. The curtains were drawn, but the lights of NYC still seeped through. It was a pretty sight.

"Hi, pretty lady," Rachel said as she sank down beside her and the couch let off a small _poof_of air. "I have a question for you."

"Go for it, Mr. Seacrest. Interview away!" She smiled, trying to shake off the awkward feeling.

But as Quinn glanced over, she noticed that there was a distinct nervousness in the smaller woman's posture. Unsure, she reached for her hand. Rachel squeezed it, tightly. She took a deep breath.

"What do you want to do about New Year's?"

"Huh?" She was caught off guard. "Rach, I'm going tomorrow. I told you that."

"No, I know that." She squeezed Quinn's hand. "Midnight, Q. The ball drop. The new year. The kiss. Are you going to kiss me or not?"

An old country song played through her head, and she fought to drive it away as she focused on the question.

"Wow. Um, well, do you want me to?"

"Well, have you thought about it?"

"Well of course, have _you_?"

"Yes, of course I have, Quinn. But it's not my life that's going to be affected, it's yours."

"What do you mean, _affected_?"

"Quinn. I know that the thought of being in a high-profile setting kind of freaks you out… I know being in a _relationship_ even freaks you out. Plus, if we kiss or anything and the media gets ahold of it, your life is going to be turned completely lopsided. I just think we need to talk about this, discuss if we're going to do this or not. Let's just both calm down and hash this out, okay?"

The fact that Rachel not only was pinpointing all of her fears but was also sketching this out like a business discussion made Quinn a little pissed. She took a breath and counted to ten – something that Santana told her to do, and something that Santana rarely ever did.

"Okay, so I won't kiss you," she said through gritted teeth.

"Quinn…"

"Rachel! You're right, okay? I just hadn't really thought about it and now I feel like a fucking idiot for wanting to show my affection in the middle of Times Square. I thought you'd be happy if I did," she finished lamely.

"Honey, I _would_, of course I would. But…we've got to think of the rest of the world watching. About our careers. It's one thing coming out as a couple quietly. It's another to kiss in Times Square. And, yes, I said _couple_," she said, leaning forward. "I know you don't want to be labeled right now, but if I kiss you, or you kiss me, I will automatically be labeled as your girlfriend."

Quinn chewed that over for a while. Rachel reached to caress her cheek, but she pulled away slightly, trying not to let her insides explode at the hurt she saw in those brown eyes. The old security walls were coming back up, sealing her feelings away, and as she feebly fought them she felt stone encompassing her throat. Her heart was strangely silent, beating normally as she concentrated on breathing. This whole weekend was an anxiety attack waiting to happen, so she stared at Gloria's calico fur and tried not to scream. Or cry. Or jump back on top of Rachel and fuck her senseless. Because all of those seemed like feasible options.

The silence was clearly killing the woman next to her, who sighed. "I'm sorry. If we were a man and a woman, this wouldn't be hard at all. If you were already famous, it wouldn't be so bad. But a Broadway star and a teacher with a quiet life? Nothing would be the same."

"It's already not the same."

"What do you mean?"

Quinn wasn't sure, it had just sounded good. She shrugged. Rachel looked pained.

"Quinn…baby, I love you. We just need to be careful tomorrow. That's all I can say. Please tell me what you're thinking."

The pressure in her chest was staggering, and her breathing felt constricted. "I don't know. I wish this was easier, I guess."

"So do I. I'm sorry my career makes this so complicated. But like I said back at my parents', I'm willing to work through it if you are. I promise you that."

Quinn knew she meant it.

But it wasn't Rachel she was worried about.

It was herself.

"I don't know…I don't know if I'm ready yet."

"To come out publicly?"

"No." She took a breath. The iron shield around her heart let a small confession seep out. "For a real relationship, Rach."

Those brown eyes were definitely wet with tears. The hazel fought to remain dry.

"Okay," Rachel said quietly. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through this."

Quinn was all of a sudden very tired.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," she stated.

Rachel nodded, lip trembling. Beside her, an unknown number was calling into her iPhone. Quinn nodded to her.

"You'd better take that. Night."

* * *

><p>Rachel watched Quinn walk to the bedroom, dread seeping into her stomach.<p>

Her phone sang cheerfully, and the unknown number calling in distracted her momentarily.

_Might as well_.

"…hello?"

"Rachel!" A loud Texas accent met her ears.

"Hi, Miranda?"

"Yeah, honey, hi. How are you?"

"Well…I'm okay, I guess." _Great. Miranda Lambert has changed her mind about letting me sing the song._

"You sure?"

"Eh. Relationship problems."

"Honey, trust me. I've been married to Blake for 11 years and we still fight sometimes. It's part of the growing process. But anyway, you don't need to hear me waffle. I've got news for ya."

Rachel swallowed, expecting the worst.

"I'm flying in tomorrow!"

"…_what?_"

"Yeah! You wouldn't _believe_ the snow we're getting here. We canceled our trip and we're going to fly out to New York before we get snowed in. I called Ryan already and he said there's a spot for me. I think Blake and I are going to perform something, but if you want to duet with me…well, that's an option."

"…wow." _Quinn would love it_, Rachel thought, her stomach unknotting a bit.

"Your sweetie is still coming, right?"

"…I think so…we kind of just had a fight."

"Well, damn, darlin'. Tell him I need to speak with him."

Rachel laughed. "It's a woman."

"All right, even better. Lady to lady, I'll knock some sense into her tomorrow. Don't you worry, okay? Tomorrow's another day."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh stop. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? But don't tell anyone. I'm a surprise."

"Okay, thank you so much."

"Mmhmm, bye darlin'."

Rachel turned the lights off, and slowly walked to the bedroom. The cats followed wordlessly. She climbed into bed next to Quinn, who was sprawled out and doing a wonderful impression of a sleeping person. But her breathing gave her away, and Rachel could tell she was still fighting to remain calm.

She tentatively wrapped her body around the taller woman and buried her nose in her hair. Quinn didn't shy away, and in fact cuddled a little closer.

Rachel closed her eyes.

_Tomorrow is another day._


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: Well, I don't think that went as Rachel planned. Quinn is afraid of her feelings, can y'all imagine that? Thanks for sticking with me – I'm aiming for one more chapter after this one, and then sort of an epilogue. So, we're almost done with this story! Thanks for staying with me. :) Sorry it's been so long.

Rachel woke up to her phone ringing and stretched out drowsily.

"Hello?" she said, eyes still closed, her voice drowsy from sleep.

"Hey, it's Dad." She sat up slightly and opened her eyes slightly. It was still relatively early, but she had slept in more than usual.

"Hi, what are you two up to?" She struggled to get her mind working.

"Well, we were going to walk over to your place from the hotel."

"Dad, it's _freezing_." She wondered how Isaac had come across this particular deal. Michael was slightly afraid of being hit by a taxi, no matter how many feet from the road he walked.

"I know, but I sure as hell don't want to move the car. How about we pick up some bagels and we'll be over in like half an hour?"

"Sure, see you then. Love you."

"Love you sweetie!"

Rachel rolled over to study the still-sleeping blonde beside her. She almost planted a kiss on one of the pale cheeks, but then abruptly remembered the little row they had gotten into last night.

_Quinn's afraid_, she reminded herself. _Of her private life being destroyed. I don't blame her_.

But Rachel had just scratched the surface of Quinn's worries. Despite the fact that she had been first to bed, the woman beside her had been wrestling with her thoughts for hours after Rachel had fallen asleep. Even now, she was having a dream about paparazzi catching her naked in her office, pressuring her with questions, filling the small space so she couldn't escape, drowning out her calls for aid.

For someone with a career in higher education, the possibility of being publicly branded a lesbian and being a target of media attention meant that she was not the only one affected. Her family, her colleagues, her students – they could all be intruded upon by the cameras and harsh words of the blogosphere. She could get fired for inability to do her job or risking her students' safety. And the school's reputation could be harmed if someone thought a young lesbian woman might be a bad influence on their children. She was out to a few, but not to the entire school.

And that was definitely the stuff of bad dreams.

Rachel's decision to shake her awake pulled her out of that nightmarish situation, though her heart was still pounding and a sheen of sweat covered her forehead.

The brunette noticed how shook up she was, but decided against hugging her or trying to comfort her.

"My dads will be here with bagels around nine, Q. I'm going to go make coffee and tidy up." And she slid out of bed, trying not to crack at the sight of those frightened hazel eyes.

Somewhat to her surprise, Quinn followed her and sat at the kitchen island quietly, watching as she stacked a bunch of mail and put it to the side. The cats seemed to sense her distress, and both jumped on the smooth marble surface to nuzzle her hands.

"Do you need any help?"

Rachel was again surprised. "…no, I think I've got it." She noticed Quinn fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. "You sleep okay?" she called as she carried some old magazines to a rack in the living room.

"Uh, yeah…thanks. Just…weird dreams."

"Oh yeah?" The brunette asked cautiously. _She'll tell me if she wants to open up_.

"Yeah."

_Guess she doesn't want to_.

"Well, you can take a nap after breakfast if you're still tired, okay?"

Quinn nodded but didn't take her eyes off of the actress. This was certainly a departure from the mask she had on last night. She looked…vulnerable. Which, Rachel was learning, was something of a rarity.

Well, she had tried to talk it over and met resistance. She wasn't about to try again. She wouldn't bow to her own empathetic side and run over and hug Quinn and apologize for scaring her with the harsh truth.

Probably.

Maybe.

…_fuck_.

She crossed to the island and leaned on it, facing those hazel eyes with determination.

"You gonna talk?"

Quinn shrugged. "If you want to listen. I know you were just trying to prepare me last night for what would happen if we went public. I overreacted, and I was a bitch, and I understand if you hate me."

"_Oh my God_, Quinn, are we in high school again? Guilt trips don't work on me."

"Damn," said the blonde, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Well, I _am_ sorry for running out like that…"

"Thank you."

"I just am afraid of what might happen. To me. To you. To my students. To my colleagues."

"Quinn, there aren't too many paparazzi roaming the streets around Columbus. I don't really think you're going to be a big target. And I'm really not that famous compared to others. Neither is Josh. This movie's independent, not a huge deal."

"But tonight is a big night. The whole atmosphere just screams for media attention."

"Right, which is why I asked you about it last night."

"I know." Rachel tilted her head. They weren't really getting anywhere.

"Okay, here's the deal. You just go with me, smile and be happy, and if anyone asks, we go with the same story. You're my high school friend, you love Broadway, you're a good acquaintance with my dads. And then later, if you're ready, we can let someone catch us making out at a café somewhere and take a picture and I'll tell the world that you're my girlfriend. We don't have to announce anything tonight, okay? You're right that it would be a flashy way to do it."

Rachel took a breath. "But at the same time, there will be a lot of other celebs there kissing their significant others. Odds are they won't even see me if I kiss you. And they'll probably be focused on Miran – uh, my random friends in the business." She flushed, remembering that Miranda Lambert's appearance was supposed to be a secret. Quinn didn't seem to pick up on her slip of the tongue, and was chewing things over in her head. Rachel stood and went to make coffee, leaving the other woman alone with her thoughts.

"You'd have me as your girlfriend?" The question was soft, barely discernible over the running water, and it sounded like a rhetorical question anyhow, like Quinn was just thinking aloud. Heavy teaspoonfuls of coffee went into the filter, the water into the back of the machine.

"Rachel?"

The actress turned.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. I love you."

"It's all right. I know that asking you to come was a big thing, let alone asking you to sacrifice your private life. We haven't even been together for that long, right? I forgot how used to your privacy you are. Being on Broadway, you kind of sacrifice that for your career." She winked.

"Your daddy told me something that scared me."

"What?"

"About that guy…and the pictures…the hotel room." Rachel's throat tightened, and she began breathing steadily to fend off the rising panic. Those memories still scared her.

"Quinn, that was a long time ago," she said quietly. "I don't think about it anymore, really. That was one guy, one crazy bastard. Literally, he was declared mentally unstable. The other paparazzi, they can be pretty intrusive. But I really am not as big of a media target, comparatively. I mean, I've never been followed home…they haven't gone after my dads. And I know being my girlfriend or love interest puts a different target on you than, say, being my parents or being my best friend. But I _promise_, if you choose to move forward, I will do whatever I can to protect you and your career. And especially your students." She grinned. "Though maybe I'll organize a fake paparazzi raid on your drama building. It would be good practice for you."

She crossed over to Quinn and wrapped her arms around her. "I love you, okay? Like I said, I'm willing to work through it. We can make this work."

"I love you too," came the muffled response from somewhere in her shoulder.

"Now come on, Michael will have a fit if he sees us upset." Rachel kissed her softly. "It'll be okay."

They sat with their coffee at the island, watching the cats pounce on each other on the living room floor. Rachel's hand moved to cover Quinn's, and they smiled at each other, momentarily, before there was a loud knock at the door and a muffled cry of "bagels!" came from the hallway.

Rachel's fathers were excitedly chatting about seeing someone who they thought was Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers as they sailed into the apartment and deposited their bags in front of Quinn.

"And he had a hat on, you know, like he does these days, and he was walking a little slowly, but I swear it was him! Are they playing tonight? Rachel, who _is_ playing tonight?" Michael was about to jump out of his skin.

"Daddy, he's like 60, and I don't think they're performing."

"But who is?"

"Well, haven't your buddies at the office been looking into that?" she asked mischievously.

"Nope, that's a question for Mr. Journalist."

But Isaac was busy taking pictures of the apartment. Michael turned to Quinn.

"Do you know? Hello, by the way!"

"Hi, Michael. No, she hasn't really told me anything…very unlike her, don't you think?"

"Oh, shut it. You know I barely even had time to prepare for this!" Rachel acted indignant, but inside she was grinning.

If they only knew who had been suddenly added to the lineup…


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: I don't know details about New Year's Rockin' Eve, so...I made it up as best as I could. :)

Also, I lied to you. One more chapter after this. :)

* * *

><p>The show didn't start until 10 p.m., but because of the inevitable pedestrian traffic, getting through security, and the time it took for hair and makeup and sound checks for the show, Rachel had to be there around 6.<p>

So, after a leisurely afternoon in which they watched some old movies and cooked a nice early dinner (and Rachel vocally warmed herself up for what seemed like hours in the shower), 5 o'clock became a whirlwind of activity. Isaac and Michael were in the study, ironing their suits, and the Broadway diva had locked herself in her room "to prepare." So, Quinn dragged her suitcase into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and then debated about what to wear as she dried her short blonde hair.

She had packed _way_too many outfits, but she wasn't quite sure what a guest of a New Year's Rockin' Eve performer was supposed to wear. And the forecast had called for a slight chance of rain, which would make the 35-degree evening seem a lot colder. Eventually, she decided on a dark red, turtleneck dress with long sleeves (because she was NOT about to freeze her ass off in public), tall black boots, a thick black belt to accentuate her waist, and a black peacoat.

She still wasn't sure about how the media would portray her if they took a picture of her with Rachel. But if they got a hold of her, she wanted to make sure she looked hot.

She was putting some simple hoops in her ears when a knock came at the door.

"You decent?"

"Yeah, come on in."

Rachel stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

"You look good!" she said with a smile.

"So do you." Rachel was just in yoga pants, a NYADA sweatshirt and a knit hat. In her arms hung a beautiful, one-shoulder black dress with an accordion-style folding pattern below the waist. Her hair was still wet, and she didn't have any makeup or jewelry on, but Quinn was pretty positive her smile would have eclipsed anything else she could put on.

"Are you nervous?" Quinn asked. Rachel blushed.

"Uh...yeah, a little. But I think it's going to be a lot of fun."

"Where do we go beforehand? Like, what do you do?"

"We'll be in Times Square Studios. I have a dressing room and we'll hang out there for a bit. Jen will make sure my hair and makeup are done, and then you and my dads will be escorted to the space by the stage that's reserved for guests. I'll probably join you guys backstage though."

"When do you go on?"

"Close to 11:30," she said with a smile, reaching out to fix a piece of Quinn's hair that had fallen over her face. "Right after Carrie Underwood cleans it up. She can belt it!"

Quinn sighed. "Why do you only mention country stars in front of me? You're making me jealous, and also making me start to think you actually have _good_taste in music."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Better than you. Did I tell you about the time I sat next to Bieber on an airplane? I think he's going to be there tonight, too!"

"Oh, have your daddy catch me when I swoon and faint, then!"

"I'll get you an autograph."

"Yeah, like I'd...wait, really?"

The brunette laughed. "Trust me, you'll rub elbows with a few of the rich and famous tonight. Don't get too crazy, okay?" She leaned in to peck Quinn on the cheek. "You all ready?"

"Yeah, give me a second to finish my eyeliner... I want these babies to pop for the paparazzi."

Three minutes later, they were all ready to go. Isaac was fussing with Michael, trying to get him to put a tie on. Rachel shook her head as she took the tie from his hands and wrapped it around her own neck.

"Come on, boys, I've got a show to catch!"

But she managed to snap a picture of them, with Quinn making a face in the background, before she led them down the stairs, chattering to her agent the whole way.

Once outside, they hailed a taxi and were whisked the several blocks down to Times Square Studios. It took them almost half an hour to crawl past the pedestrians and re-route over the closed roads. Quinn couldn't help but feel nervous at the sight of the crowds. The driver was nice, though, but his accent was a lot thicker than Bobby's and he was a little hard to understand. Quinn wondered how her new friend was, and if all his boy problems were sorted out.

A short, impatient-looking woman with light brown hair opened the passenger door the moment that the taxi stopped in front of the studios.

"Thanks, Ted, here's a little extra for the New Year," she said, reaching around Rachel to hand the cabbie some money. Looking around the street, she ushered Rachel out of the car. Two beefy men stepped forward and flanked the actress on either side. "Get, get! Cameras are everywhere. Hi Michael, hi Isaac. Let's get you inside. You're Quinn? Nice to meet you, let's go honey."

And with that, they were inside, down a hallway, and into a dimly-lit dressing room. Rachel's dads sat primly on a couch as if this was an everyday thing. Quinn shrugged her jacket off and sat in a chair by the door, as Rachel hung her dress up and took a seat in front of a huge mirror. The intense woman - Jen, most likely - shut the door behind them as she barked some orders into her iPhone. Rachel turned and winked at them as she lit the mirror in front of her.

Two young women entered the room, armed with makeup and hair styling objects, and set to work as Jen continued to talk.

"Security is tight, apparently, so there are people who will take you from the studio to the stage in a car. Once you're done, you head backstage and they've got some sort of heated tent for the celebs to stay in and ring in the New Year. Your dads and Quinn can join you after you perform. Honestly, woman, you'll do great, but expect the cameras to be all over Jay-Z and Beyoncé because apparently their daughter can sing like an angel already at the age of ten…" and on she went, talking about celebrities, about how everything would work, et cetera, as the stylists carefully rolled Rachel's hair into perfect barrel curls and applied her makeup. Quinn texted Bobby and wished him an early New Year while she was thinking about it; she had promised to take plenty of pictures for him, too.

When they were done, Jen thanked them and saw them out.

"All right, diva," she said, "you need to get to sound check and warm up. I know you haven't done much singing in a while. And there's a bunch of media agents who are expecting you to stop by the press room; I think the woman from _ET_ is trying to get ahold of you, especially. But get changed first! Okay?" Rachel nodded as the agent's phone rang abruptly. "Excuse me." She stepped outside.

"Well honey, it's good to see some people don't change," Isaac said wryly as his daughter turned around to smile at them. "You look so beautiful. We're so proud of you."

"Seconded," Michael piped in.

"Thirded," said Quinn. Rachel smiled.

"You all doing okay? You'll be all right until the show starts?" The question was directed to all three of them, but the brown eyes were focused intently on the quiet blonde in the chair. They all nodded. "Jen should have VIP passes for you, so you can get to your assigned places for the show and then backstage. There's security everywhere to escort you. Okay? I've really got to go get warmed up, though." She stood and kissed both of her dads on the cheek. They wished her luck and followed Jen out. Quinn hung back for a second.

"Good luck," she said simply as she stood and walked over to Rachel. She put her hands on the brunette's shoulders and began massaging gently. "You'll be great, baby."

Rachel leaned her head back and smiled. "Hey, that's the first time you called me that."

"Oh yeah?"

"I like it." Quinn leaned forward and kissed her, running her fingers through the dark hair.

"Don't mess up my hair," Rachel murmured as she sat back up and turned around.

"Oh sorryyy." But a longer, more passionate kiss cut the sarcastic remark off.

When Rachel pulled back, Quinn practically fell in her lap after leaning over so long.

"Hey!"

"Oh sorryyy," the brunette said with an impish grin. "I love you. I'll see you in a few hours, okay? You going to be all right?"

Quinn shrugged. "Yeah, I think so. Don't worry about me, your dads will keep me company. And Jen said there was security, so I know we'll be safe."

Rachel stood and wrapped her arms around the taller woman's shoulders, hugging her close. "I'm glad I have you with me. I can't wait to be with you all the time!"

"Soon, okay? But you've got to go sing for America now, so don't be sad."

"All right. I love you!"

"Love you too, baby."

Rachel grinned and walked her to the door. Michael and Isaac were examining some pictures on the wall, and smiled as she exited.

"All right," Isaac said. "Let's rock this thing."


	33. Chapter 33

Quinn tucked her VIP pass into her coat, not wanting to give anyone with a camera or notepad a reason to give her a second glance. The stage in Times Square was already set up and brightly lit as set crew milled about. The front section was gated off, and security guards were standing as an imposing warning to anyone who wanted to sneak into the VIP area. People had lined up along the sides already, waving signs and taking pictures in the chilly air.

Almost simultaneously, Quinn and Isaac had their phones out to take pictures. He grinned at her.

"Our first New York New Year's!" he exclaimed. "I'll get some video later if you don't mind being in it."

"No problem," she said with a smile as they crossed the street. "Do you make a lot of video blogs?"

He grinned. "I like to call them that, but a man in his fifties is probably not the best vlogger the _Lima Times_ could ask for. Oh well. I've been there long enough that I've earned their respect, and I have some loyal readers who just watch whatever I put up." He rubbed his hands together. "I need coffee. Mike, you hungry or anything?"

"No thanks honey, but I could use some coffee too. Quinn?"

"Let's do it." They shouldered their way into the McDonald's (with what seemed to be the rest of the city) and waited in line.

"I hope we don't get crushed like at those big concerts," Michael said, his eyes wide.

"If we do, I hope we get our coffee first!" said his husband cheerfully as he raised his camera over the crowd.

Quinn's phone buzzed, and she looked down to see Bobby had texted her back.

_- Hey lady, how's the Big Apple treatin' ya? You surviving all the crazy people?_

_- Your homeland is nuts, Bobby. But I'm good, thanks. Getting coffee before the big night. And you?_

_- Getting dressed for a party, you know. We do it big in Columbus._

_-Oh yeah. Well have fun, sir. See you soon._

_- Have fun, Q!_

She didn't quite get how people _lived_ here. No wonder Bobby was happy with his teaching job in Ohio, and Rachel was coming back to her home state for a bit. It was just so damn busy.

"Well, the coffee's fresh!" Isaac exclaimed after half an hour as they sat in a corner table to sip their drinks.

They managed to kill an hour or more with small talk and an "interview," which meant Quinn rambling into a camera about New York for Isaac's blog. He was clearly excited about everything she had to say, and was amusing both his interviewee and his husband.

As she exited the McDonald's with one of Rachel's dads on each arm, she couldn't help but feel that sense of family again. Like these two men, who were easily 25 years older than her (if not more), considered her a friend. And the feeling was definitely mutual. She wasn't sure how well she'd be handling the stress right now without them.

Their VIP passes earned them nods from the security guards and jealous glares from some of the other people in the crowd. Once in the gate, they pushed as close as they felt comfortable to the stage and waited for the show. Isaac snapped pictures as the crowd behind them grew progressively larger and the temperature dropped slightly.

Cheers grew as the clock counted towards ten o'clock. Right on the hour, the stage lit up and the sounds of some new pop band hit Quinn's ears.

"I thought boy bands died in the 90s?" she shouted to Isaac over the screaming girls to their left and right.

"I dunno, I've been to a few pop concerts lately to write articles about this new surge of cute teenagers with guitars," he shouted back. "It's fuckin' catchy!"

After its second high-powered song, the band waved and wished the crowd a happy New Year. Ryan Seacrest walked up the side of the stage to even louder cheers and applause.

"Welcome to New York City, everyone, and we're glad you decided to join us for your New Year's Eve..." Quinn was already checking the time on her phone impatiently.

_I wonder what Rachel's doing now...?_

Between sets, the crews would frantically change the stage layout. Seacrest's glittering smile would fade as he checked and re-checked something on his iPhone. Quinn was positively shaking with anticipation.

10:30, Blue Ivy Carter and Beyoncé... 10:40, Justin Bieber... 11:00, someone she had never heard of in her life... 11:18, Willow Smith.

Seacrest announced Carrie Underwood at around 11:25, and Quinn finally stopped doing the mental equivalent of fidgeting long enough to pa. Carrie sounded great (and looked fantastic) as she strutted around the stage in tall black boots, skinny jeans and a low-cut black sweater and belted out a few of her current hits. Quinn couldn't help but smile when the _Idol_ alumna gave Ryan Seacrest a huge hug after the performance.

"Thanks, Carrie," he said with a grin. Isaac excitedly elbowed his husband in the side and pointed to stage right. The person they were looking at was barely recognizable from where they were standing, but Quinn could see the stage lights shining off of perfectly curled hair and the outline of a rather large nose as the woman they were pointing at chugged a bottle of water.

It was definitely Rachel.

"Our next performer is used to singing the big lights of New York City, and I owe her my personal thanks for agreeing to do the show on such short notice! Here to pay tribute to her own idol, from the cast of "Chicago" on Broadway - Rachel Berry!"

The cheers weren't as strong as they had been for other performers, but when the band struck up the first chords of "Don't Rain on My Parade" there was quite a bit of happy yelling around the Square. But the majority of the noise was coming from two grown men and a young woman in her twenties up in the front row, who were cheering Rachel Berry (and her hot black dress) on like it was the best show they had ever seen.

For Isaac and Michael, seeing their daughter sing a song that had given the glee club hope lifted their spirits as well. They would never forget that first year as New Directions fans, and parents of its star singer. They would never forget hearing their daughter belt out one of her favorites to a captive audience, as she had belted it out hundreds of times around the house.

For Quinn, it was also a reminder of her time in New Directions. But it was also a stunning realization of what ten years of professional singing had done for Rachel's voice. She had always been _good_, but now she had so much more control over her notes, more breath support. And she looked much more confident. It was kind of sexy, and Quinn couldn't help but feel a small surge of pride that, yeah, this woman definitely had the hots for her. Rachel turned on her heel and winked at a little boy in the audience with flair and grace as she powered into the bridge.

"_I'm gonna live, and live now..."_

Both of her fathers had tears in their eyes at this point, and Quinn was just smiling and letting the rich sounds of Rachel's voice wash over her.

The last note was perfectly on pitch, and the audience was loving it - they had begun cheering even while Rachel was still letting her voice crescendo to the end. Quinn nudged Michael and Isaac.

"We should get backstage to congratulate her, huh?" _And give her the biggest hug I've ever given anyone; that was amazing_.

But Rachel was saying something now, so they shook their heads at her and stopped to listen.

"Thank you all so much!" she was saying as the applause continued. "Thank you, really. I wanted to do one more song for you tonight, and Ryan said I could if I'd take him out on a date..." Laughter rippled from the crowd.

"I want in," Michael whispered with a grin.

"This song isn't probably one a lot of you know. I just heard it a few weeks ago because it's special to someone who is very important in my life. So I thought it would be a fitting tribute to sing it tonight."

Isaac elbowed Quinn in the ribs. "I think she's talking about you, lady!"

The blonde could only blush as, inside her chest, her heart was about to pound its way out of her body.

Of all the times guys or girls had tried to win her over, no one had ever dedicated a song to her in front of millions of people. Funny that the one who would do that was the one who had already won her over years ago.

"And the woman who wrote this song happens to be in town tonight, so I asked if she could stop by and help me out with the song," Rachel continued with a smile.

The thumping heart screeched to a halt and Quinn's mouth fell open.

_She can't mean..._

"Ladies and gentlemen, Miranda Lambert!"

"Oh my God," Quinn heard herself say as her idol walked up behind Rachel, her pink guitar in her hand. There were definitely some country fans in the audience who were happy to see Miranda as she stepped up to the microphone and gave Rachel a hug.

"I hope y'all don't mind if we share this mic," she said with a wave as she slung her guitar over her shoulder and began to play the opening chords of "Love is Lookin' For You."

It had probably been a while since two women and one acoustic guitar had been the only instruments for a New Year's Rockin' Eve set. But the effect was chilling - it was completely silent save for the musicians on stage.

Quinn's eyes filled with tears, and she stood in awe of how damn good their voices sounded. Miranda's southern twang was definitely audible in the song, but her warm tone melded well with Rachel's as they harmonized over the first chorus. It gave her chills.

She was unaware as Michael and Isaac stepped a few feet away and a tall, dark-haired man moved to stand next to her.

"They sound good, don't they?" the man asked quietly, and Quinn looked up at the strange voice…and into the eyes of Miranda's husband, fellow country artist Blake Shelton.

Rachel's dads could only grin at how thunderstruck she looked to have him walk up to her. The handsome singer winked at her and turned his attention back to his wife and the Broadway actress, singing together.

The tears were flowing freely as the song ended. Blake led Isaac, Michael and Quinn backstage.

Rachel was standing with Miranda and Ryan, laughing, as the group approached them.

"Hey honey," Blake said, and hugged his wife. Rachel, beaming, hugged her fathers and let the crying Quinn hold her close.

"Thank you," the blonde whispered. "You look so beautiful."

"Hey, quit that. Don't you want to meet someone?" She broke off the hug. "Hey, Miranda? This is Quinn."

It was a good thing Rachel's arm was wrapped securely around her waist, because as the beautiful singer came over with a grin, Quinn's knees got weak.

"Hey darlin'! It's great to meet you, I hear you like my music."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you…thank you so much for agreeing to do this."

Miranda grinned and pulled her into a hug, and Rachel moved away slowly.

Quinn felt like she was about to die of happiness.

"That's one of my favorite songs," the country singer said quietly. "I think your girl knows how much it means to you. Sounds like it's a good song for either of you to sing to the other, huh?"

"Yeah. Yes ma'am." They broke apart. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Rachel and her dads joking with Blake. Tentatively, she walked over to join them. It was surprising how _normal_ this all felt, talking to two of her favorite singers with the woman she loved by her side. Several other celebrities were still mingling about.

The clock read 11:40. There were definitely a few media around taking pictures, and one paunchy man approached them a little too closely, trying to get a shot of Rachel. His name badge said something about Broadway, but Blake stepped in front of them and held his arms out.

"Hey, we're havin' a nice conversation, man," he said loudly. The security guards raised their heads. "Have a little class."

"Sorry," the man said. "I wanted to ask Miss Berry who her guest is tonight, and if the rumors are true she has a sex tape that's been circulating the Internet or if it was Vanessa Hudgens."

Blake all but growled. "No, but I'll show you my sex tape with Donald Trump if you don't beat it."

"Just one question…"

"Look, pal, we're enjoying some time _as friends_ together." The security guards were right by them now. "It's our right to do that in this great country, eh?"

Frustrated, the man turned and stormed off. Grinning, the tall country star wheeled around.

"What were we talkin' about?" He slipped his hand into his wife's and kissed her forehead.

They made small talk for the next few minutes –- Quinn actually got the nerve up to _talk_ a little bit, though she was still starstruck.

At 11:59, Ryan's voice could be heard outside, counting down the last 60 minutes of 2022. A lot of thoughts were running through Quinn's mind in that minute, as their small group stopped chit-chatting and focused on the live stream of the glittering crystal ball, slowly descending above the city.

She tightened her arm around Rachel's waist. The brunette looked up.

"Hi there," she said with a smile. Quinn smiled back, mind still racing with everything that had happened that year, as the countdown began.

_Ten._

The woman she loved, who was willing to do anything to make the relationship work.

_Nine._

The small kitten who had won her heart, waiting at home.

_Eight._

The father she had been cheated out of – duplicated, and now in her life in the form of two fabulously gay men who had raised a Broadway star.

_Seven._

Her new friend at the university, who knew all too well the perils of being an openly gay school teacher.

_Six._

Her students, the most loving and accepting group of people she had ever met.

_Five._

An old high school friend, the father of her child, still remaining a positive presence in her life.

_Four._

Her idol, standing beside her, and her idol's husband – both had shown more love and care to Quinn and Rachel in the last twenty minutes than she would have thought possible.

_Three._

Yes, she had a lot of wonderful people in her life. It had been a good year – or a good few months.

_Two._

She pulled Rachel closer, tilted her chin up.

_One._

Rachel seemed surprised at first. But their lips met passionately as cheers rang up, celebrating a new year and a new beginning.

For Quinn, this new beginning didn't seem quite so scary all of a sudden. She wrapped her arms around Rachel's neck and continued the kiss, gently pressing into those soft lips.

"I love you," the brunette murmured. Around them, people were chattering and hugging. Champagne was being poured. Cameras were flashing. But Quinn Fabray only had eyes for one person.

"I love you, Rachel."


	34. Epilogue

A/N: Well, we're at the end! Thank you all for keeping up with the story. I really hope you like the spin I put on Faberry! I'm working on another fic with Brittana and Faberry, and it's a crossover with _Resident Evil_. I'm calling it "Gunpowder and Lead, and Zombies." I hope to have enough details in it about the two separate groups of characters so both fandoms can enjoy. Should be a lot of fun, much different from this and definitely bloodier.

Hope you're all doing well! Keep in touch; my username on both Twitter and Tumblr is mkrj if you're looking for new people to follow. Thanks again!

Love,

Raggy

* * *

><p><strong>Two months later (fifth week of the semester)<strong>  
><strong>Ohio Wesleyan University<strong>

The students in Dr. Quinn Fabray's Beginning Acting class were getting the hang of the daily routine. They would come in to the basement rehearsal room for class, stretch out on the floor, and go through a series of vocal and physical warmups to get them ready for class.

Today, there was a visitor - but that was normal, too. Dr. Q often had guests stop in to talk to the students about acting or show biz in general.

But when their professor walked through that door with a short brunette woman right behind her, the vocal warmups ceased and all the students sat straight up.

They recognized this woman.

And they had seen Dr. Q in a few gossip magazines with her, but none had ever dared to ask if the rumors were true. They respected her way too much to pry like that. And those who knew Dr. Bobby Verne in journalism, and who had asked him (because he was friends with Dr. Q, people said) had gotten nothing. Admittedly, that picture of them kissing on New Year's had gotten around the Internet. Two of the students in Beginning Acting were on the staff of The Transcript student newspaper and had wanted to interview her about it. Dr. Verne told them they could go on ahead, but advised against it. They never did find out the truth about their professor and the Broadway star.

But here she was - the famous Rachel Berry, Ohio's own Broadway star, in the flesh.

"Hey guys," the professor said as she and Ms. Berry sat on the floor. The students all scooted around to form a circle. Even those who weren't huge Broadway fans knew who she was, and how great of a voice she had. They had seen her in magazines, on commercials, etc.

The two student reporters were jumping out of their skin.

Everyone else was in awed silence.

"So, say hello to our guest today," Quinn continued. "I'm sure many of you have heard her performances on Broadway or seen her in the news." She grinned. "I'm sure all of you have seen the picture of me kissing her, or been stopped by the paparazzi on the street. Yes, it's true. This is Rachel Berry. My girlfriend. Brad, Kelly, you can write a story on her surprise visit to campus for the paper. Dr. Verne told me you wanted to."

They blushed, but their FlipCams were out of their bags and into video mode in no time flat.

Dr. Q told them all last week that if they wrote down five good questions for their guest, and then five follow-up questions after the visit, she would make their mid-term an open-note exam.

The questions they had written for class today were pretty generic, since they hadn't known who the guest was.

As they listened to Rachel, they tried desperately to think of five follow-up questions that weren't inappropriate. Such as, "so how is our theatre professor in the sheets, Ms. Berry?"

Rachel had a break from filming that day, so she had tagged along with Quinn on her morning commute and occupied herself in the antique stores around campus while Dr. Fabray busied herself with school and rehearsals. The musical was coming up, and everything was just about ready for opening night. Rachel was excited to see the show, and had talked to some of the students about it after visiting Quinn's class. But all they seemed to be interested in was her own career, and her new movie.

The movie was going well. Though she was a secondary character, there were still a lot of lines to memorize. Zooey Deschanel was a great actress to have as her on-screen big sister, and her off-screen mentor. In between takes, the older actress was helping Rachel manage her free time well by running lines with her and delving into their characters' lives together.

Zooey's character, Susie, was an uptight professor at Ohio State. Rachel's character, Joanna, raced motorcycles and didn't really have any life direction. It was a challenging role (in part because motorcycles scared her), but it was fun.

Josh Radnor's character, Lou, was a new janitor at OSU who had just gotten out of prison on drug charges. He and Susie began dating in the film. Since Susie and Joanna's mom was dead and their dad was a deadbeat, Rachel got to play the overprotective little sister.

The scene where she was going to take Josh's character on a motorcycle (to scare him) and then try and outrun a cop…well, that one was going to be fun.

Tomorrow, she would begin some serious motorcycle lessons. But tonight, she would enjoy her evening off.

Quinn said she wanted to make pasta, after all, so it promised to be a great night.

After rehearsal for the show wrapped at 6 p.m., the two headed to Rachel's apartment. It was finally beginning to seem like a home now, in part because Quinn and Jean Valjean were becoming frequent fixtures. The rare nights when Rachel slept alone, her bed felt strangely empty and cold – even with her own two cats next to her.

They swung by Quinn's apartment to get a few ingredients and pick up Jean (who had grown considerably) and headed down the street. It wasn't that Quinn's apartment was a bad place to be, but the blonde insisted the "atmosphere" was a lot better in Rachel's kitchen.

"I love cooking with wine," Quinn said once they were inside, opening the fridge and popping the cork off a bottle of Merlot with her teeth.

Rachel just shook her head and took a seat at the kitchen island, watching in fascination as the pretty blonde poured a glass of wine, and then started cooking.

"Is _Mean Girls_ over here?" asked Quinn.

"No, I think it's still at your house."

"What about _The Birdcage?_"

"Oh, you like that one? Well, it's at your house, too."

"Damn. Well, is there anything you want to watch?"

"Um…did you ever give me _Nine_ back?"

"Nope…"

And she went back to cooking. Rachel shook her head. They did spend time at Quinn's every now and then, and it was just their luck that the movies she wanted to watch weren't there.

Since the photos of them kissing had leaked online, there hadn't really been an option for them but to announce that Rachel was gay. And, surprisingly, it went over without too much of a media scuffle. But the issue then became what to call Quinn. An "old high school friend" would not be kissing her so passionately in public.

Quinn had shrugged when Rachel asked her.

"I've been thinking…I think I'm ready for this, Rachel. You said you were willing to make this work, and I told you I was too. So, will you be my girlfriend?"

And then they proceeded to make out for at least fifteen minutes.

And that was that. Bursting with pride, Rachel had called her agent and gushed that they were now in a relationship. And the last two months had been amazing. Quinn was still a little hesitant to hold hands in public, and she wasn't a big fan of kissing Rachel in the middle of the sidewalk or anything. She was definitely shy if they ran into a fan, and mildly terrified of the paparazzi. But she had definitely come a long way since December. They both had.

Rachel was reminiscing on this, misty-eyed, as her girlfriend put water on the stove for the pasta. Quinn had made dinner so many times that she knew where every little item was. She was also getting comfortable with borrowing Rachel's sweatpants or getting a shower and borrowing a towel. Jean had made fast friends with Ian and Gloria, which was good.

It was like this was Quinn's second home.

A thought began occurring to the brunette.

"Baby?" Rachel said after a few minutes.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have too much stuff."

"…okay?" Quinn turned her head slightly to look at her.

"And you're my girlfriend now."

"…uh-huh…."

"…What if you just moved in here? You and Jean and all your things could just come down the street…we could just split the rent, whatever works for you, and then we wouldn't have to worry about whose house we're eating at that night, or whose house the movies are at, or if the cats are getting lonely…it would just be us. Every day, with the cats. And you could teach me how to cook more things, and I could show you more movies and practice my lines with you, and maybe take you around on the motorcycle if they let me borrow it..."

Quinn stopped her with a gentle kiss.

"Hey," she said, touching her forehead to Rachel's. "I love you."

"I love you too." She was expecting the blonde to think about it for a while, as she was wont to do with big decisions. But it just made sense – and day by day, as they spent more time together, their connection was growing deeper. Rachel could feel it, and it felt real this time, not like in high school when she married Finn for a short while. She wasn't ready for a commitment like that. But now? With Quinn?

Yeah, they were headed down that road.

The same sort of thinking was going on behind the hazel eyes, as they stared measuredly into the brown. Quinn was always afraid to commit. She had been throughout this relationship, until the New Year, when Rachel had shown how much she cared for her with a simple song. So, she had tried to reciprocate that. Because as much as it scared her, Quinn knew her feelings were growing stronger each day. She took a risk when she said she was willing to be in a relationship. But now, she had been feeling the same way as Rachel was: secure, now, and happy with the beautiful girl in front of her.

Miranda Lambert would tell her to follow her heart, and her heart was increasingly becoming attached to a little brunette with a big voice.

They spent almost every day together, anyway. Quinn felt comfortable here, like at a good friend's house. But she also felt loved, in a way a good friend can't quite make you feel.

So she smiled and took the smaller hands in hers.

"Well then, roommate. Let's do this. I need you to carry all the boxes around for me, though. You need all the muscle tone you can get if you're going to be outrunning cops on that motorcycle."

* * *

><p>THE END<p> 


End file.
